


The Rest of Forever

by alliebird58



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Romance, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6274861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliebird58/pseuds/alliebird58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merida has finally agreed to an arranged marriage. She isn't necessarily thrilled about the prospect, but at the end of the day, the whole thing turns out better than she could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You all thought you'd seen the last of me and my Merintosh obsession, huh? Well you were wrong. I am still absolute trash for these two. 
> 
> I've had this idea in my head for months now, and it finally bugged me enough that I actually wrote it down. Enjoy, friends.

Merida has been back in DunBroch for almost exactly six months to the day when her advisory council starts insisting upon her getting married. She vehemently refuses at first; it is something of a knee jerk reaction after having lived with her parents who loved each other with an almost frightening intensity. They taught her what love looked like, they taught her just how much a person could accomplish by having someone to constantly lift you up, and what a benefit a built in support system could be. From a young age Merida was never able to imagine entering a loveless marriage, and, maybe a bit selfishly, she realizes she doesn’t want to give this one incredibly personal thing away. She has given so much to her land and people already, and would make every sacrifice if it meant their safety and happiness, but Merida wants this one thing – this idea of love – for herself.

It takes another three months for the council, in tandem with her mother, to wear her down. They tell her repeatedly in gentle but firm tones that she is without a doubt one of the best queens to ever sit on the throne. But if something were to happen and she didn’t have some sort of heir, well, it would be nothing short of devastating.

Merida breaks down and finally agrees, stipulating that she gets to pick who she spends the rest of her life tied to (if she doesn’t love them she damn sure wants to at least tolerate them). They all agree, giving her two weeks to make a decision.

Her heart sinks.

She refuses to let the disappointment burning in her heart show on her face. This is just one more sacrifice for her people, and she will make it with pride.

\-----

During her time in Storybrooke, Merida found herself drawn to the ocean. It’s endless vastness and cool, salty air was the one place in the land without magic where she seemed to be able to breath easily. The crashing waves soothed her and it’s something she misses when back in DunBroch. But a servant casually reminds her of the rocky bit of oceanfront just a short ride from the castle and Merida nearly leaps out of her skin in excitement.

She makes a break for the waterfront late on the evening she finally relents and agrees to marry. Merida has never needed to breath more than in this moment.

\-----

When she arrives, she notices the coast is harsher than in Storybrooke - jagged rocks liter the beach instead of soft white sand, and it’s decidedly cooler here in DunBroch. The north wind sweeps down with an intensity that never happened back in Maine, and Merida is infinitely glad she remembered a blanket, anticipating just this kind of weather. But there’s still the sound of water breaking, still the brisk smell of salt and a freshness that instantly releases her tight muscles. It may not be the same, but it makes her feel better.

The night is clear, the moon full and reflecting on the ocean, lighting up the seaside with ambient warmth. Merida can see almost every star in the sky and it is a lovely sight; the castle lights normally burn too bright to really appreciate the night sky, but out here in the inky dark veil of night, the stars are radiant. She breathes in, deep and full, before falling bonelessly into sitting on the sand, blanket pulled tight around her shoulders, watching the way the moon shimmers and dances across the open water. Merida quickly decides she could spend forever just sitting in this one spot.

She listens to the push and pull of the rolling ocean for a time. The wind picks up, blowing hair across her back, and she can feel the temperature drop but she doesn’t not really mind the cold. Her mind is lost to thoughts of marriage and a lifetime of duty. Merida reminds herself that this is part of the reason she became queen: to ensure her people had someone to take care of them. It is a back and forth battle between heart and duty that she already knows the ending to. If she is being honest with herself, this whole situation looks a bit like sulking, and she’s harkened back to days when she wouldn’t be given dessert after dinner and would disappear for hours on end. But this is larger than dessert and Merida figures if she is going to willing trap herself in a loveless marriage, she is allowed to mourn the loss of what could have been for just a little while.

It isn’t until she hears a horse snorting quietly in the distance that her reverie ends. She looks around, and notices another horse tied up next to Angus just up the beach, and is confused for only a second more before she sees Macintosh walking towards her.

She does not want to deal with him, not right now, and lays down on the cold beach to stare at the sky instead of the ocean. He sits next to her, not saying anything, just letting her be alone with her thoughts for a few moments more. Merida appreciates the silence more than anything; it is a gift that he cannot possibly understand. But after the stillness has passed, he breathes, moving closer to her and tapping her hand lightly.

“Ye know ye canno' just run off, my queen. Half the castle is in a tizzy lookin’ for ye.”

Merida feels slightly guilty, if only for a second, and pulls herself into sitting with a concerted effort. “Aye, I know that. Just needed to get away.” She doesn’t look at him, but can feel his eyes burning into the side of her head as if he’s trying to figure out where her mind is.

\-----

They’ve become close, the two of them, ever since her return from the Land Without Magic. When she had disappeared, Mac had apparently looked for her with a single-minded determination that was rivaled only by her own stubbornness. He kept the clans in order and assisted her mother and brothers with keeping everything in line. When she had returned, he had pulled her into a bone crushing hug, which she had returned all too quickly, telling her she was not allowed to disappear like that ever again. He had breathed the words into her hair, voice tight with an honest emotion that had shocked her. She quietly promised to stay put, and felt his muscles release.

After that It had taken approximately a week of awkward encounters for them to finally realize they needed to sit down once and for all and hash out their long and (sometimes) tumultuous past.

It took them hours and hours to finally get through everything - starting with the unfortunate tourney for her hand so many years ago, going all the way to him kidnapping her brothers to intimidate her into handing over the crown. The conversation wasn’t easy - there was more yelling and screaming done in that one conversation than in all their years as acquaintances combined. But it was also cathartic. And when they both walked away from the exchange, it was with a new-found respect for the other and an easy camaraderie.

Merida begins to rely on Macintosh after that, she listens to his opinions and he offers his unswerving support. It had taken only a few months to realize that she didn’t want him to leave her side, didn’t want to see a day where she had to rule without his help. It was strange, after fighting so hard to rule by herself, to realize the benefit of having someone she trusted there to shoulder the burden.

\-----

Another gust picks up, causing a shiver to run down Merida’s spine, as she pulls the blanket tighter around her form. She takes a deep inhale, feeling the salt fill her lungs and clear her nose. She finally looks at Mac, and even silhouetted in the darkness of night, she can see the concern in his form, brows furrowed, eyes bright and never leaving hers, body attentive. “I thought ye were still in Macintosh with yer people. We werenae excepting ye back ‘till next week.”

He smiles slightly, leaning back on his arms and peering up at her through dark lashes, “Aye, I wasnae supposed to return. Yer Ma wrote to me a few days ago, said ye might need me for something. Just got here nigh two hours ago,” he smirks slightly, “only to be informed that the queen had run off. Again. Can ye no just stay put my lady?” She can hear the teasing in his voice and it pulls a grin at her own lips, even despite the news she has for him.

“Aye well, I suppose I just needed some time to myself…the council has been particularly trying the last few days.”

“Oh?”

“They want me to marry.”

Macintosh stops, draws up short for a second, and has to remind himself to keep breathing. He knew that Merida had been getting heat from the council to marry and give the country an heir should the unthinkable happen. He also knew just how much she didn’t want that for her life, and he couldn’t fault her there. It angers him to think about how much pressure she gets from them.

“Have you agreed or…?”

“Aye. They, they gave me two weeks before they want to announce it.”

The silence stretches between them, tense and…awkward, which is an old mood for the two of them to sit in.

Earlier, when Merida had finally and reluctantly agreed, she had realized almost instantly that she was downright dreading telling Macintosh. He had been the last one to stand behind her, even vehemently insisting that she fight for her own “happy ending” as he liked to call it.

“Have ye…have ye picked someone? Or are they picking for ye?” His voice is quiet, and there is something laced within the words that she can’t quite place. Merida plays with the fringe ends of the blanket cocooning her. She knew he would ask this question once she finally told him.

Merida has had almost three months to come to terms with the idea of marrying someone, and rather quickly her list had quickly dwindled down to one option. But even though she had agreed, she imagined having a few more days to prepare for this conversation. 

“No, no they’re letting me pick. And, aye, I know who.”

“Oh…?”

Merida looks to the sky, trying to summon courage from unknown gods in the heavens.

“There’s only one person who I could even imagine standing by me for the rest of my life. I may not love him, but he’s my friend and, and I think we could be happy together.”

“Oh…” Macintosh’s voice is even quieter than before, and he seems to have found something very interesting to fiddle with at the end of his cloak. They make a sore sight, the two of them. His shoulders slump forward as a gust of wind blows past them. Merida pulls the blanket tighter around her and takes a leap.

“Would you?” Her voice is quiet to match his, and the words come out in a rush, carried by the ocean breeze. Merida chances a glance towards the man sitting beside her, and she can see his frozen form hunched forward, taking in her words.

“Would I what? _Marry you?”_ His voice in incredulous and Merida feels her face flame brilliantly. Mentally she kicks herself as she contemplates how many different kinds of stupid she must be. He may care about her as his friend, as a companion, as his queen, but that is nothing like being subjected to a lifelong, loveless marriage (even if it does come with the added benefit of becoming king). She stands hastily, knocking sand off her dress, and he rises to follow her movements, catching her elbow before she has a chance to even think about retreat. She won’t meet his eye, and it’s only the gentle insistence of his fingers lightly grasping her chin that draws her face upwards.

“Mer, are ye askin’ me to marry you?” Mac’s face is set in a firm line, and his eyes are an electric blue; she can feel his hand at her elbow shake slightly. She nods quickly once and he draws a pace backwards, letting out a breath that could almost pass as laughter and Merida can feel the anger roll in her chest.

“Are ye laughing at me, Cothric Macintosh? Because if ye are ye can take yer sorry arse right back home.” Merida stomps her foot once, though the effect is somewhat lost in the soft sand and the breeze that blows a lock of hair into her mouth. She can feel tears burning at the sides of her eyes, threatening to betray her. Whether it’s because it seems like she is being outright rejected or the fact that she’s being forced into this situation to begin with, she doesn’t know. Merida’s eyes slip shut and she focuses on the sound of the waves lapping at the shoreline, the wind rustling through the trees and her own lungs taking in breath after breath.

She finally opens her eyes only to see Macintosh standing right before her. His eyes are serious, wide and bright in the moonlight. He opens his mouth, only to have no words come out. He tries again, a deep bracing breath in and then slow, deliberate words. “I am no' laughing at ye, I swear. My queen...are ye sure about this? There are so many men in this kingdom who would make ye a fine husband.”

Merida nods multiple times emphatically, before he even has the whole sentence out of his mouth. “I’m sure, Mac. Yer a good man, a good friend. I think ye would make a fine king…and…ye will make a wonderful husband to whoever ye choose. And it is yer choice, Mac. I’m the one being forced into this. Ye can say no and I will understand.”

“But yer still askin’ me anyway? Why?” His voice is puzzled, as if he hadn’t been expecting her to offer him a way out. He is inexplicably touched by the fact that she wants him by her side, but won’t stand in his way if he chooses otherwise.

Merida’s head rocks back and forth on her shoulders, as if thoughts are bouncing back and forth, side to side. He notices that she looks frustrated; her shoulders are tight and her hands wring together. Before he can stop himself, he grabs her hands, lacing their fingers together. Her brows disappear into her hairline as she gawks at his rough, calloused fingers running gently across her pale knuckles. She doesn’t take her eyes of their hands as she speaks. “Like I said, I am askin’ ye because you are a good man, Mac. Yer my friend – my best friend. And if I have to pick right now who I have to spend the rest of my life with,” she gives a small shrug and a sheepish grin, “there’s no one else besides you.”

She does not look at him directly, instead turning to look out at the dark sea. Mac thinks she looks pensive, hair billowing gently, cheeks tinged pink from the chill in the air.

“Mer, of course I will marry ye. I am helpless when it comes to you. But what about marrying for love? Ye said ye would never agree to somethin’ such as this.”

“I know what I said,” Merida snaps, and her words bristle. Mac can hear the anger, but knows it’s not directed at him. “As I see it I have no choice. The council makes a good point, ye know? I’m what, almost 28? The country needs an heir and if I wait for love to waltz in we might be in a bind. I don’t have time for such things as courting, and even if I did who would want to deal with this sort of life? This just seems easier.” Merida states the words simply, as if she’s been reciting them to herself without really believing them.

Macintosh nods at her empty words, though he wants to disagree that nobody in their right mind would have to _deal_ with Merida. She is lovely, his Queen, and anybody who fails to see that is an idiot.

“So ye will marry me then? I know it’s hardly a proper proposal…” Macintosh smiles softly at her, and nods slightly before kissing the back of her hand and stepping away to give her room. Merida finally looks fully at Macintosh and freezes in her spot. Suddenly her heart gives a giant lurch as the reality of the situation sets in. She’s going to marry him. He actually agreed. This man who, while wonderful, she does not love. And who does not love her. Her thoughts start to spiral out of control.

 _This isn’t how it’s suppose to happen, this isn’t how it’s suppose to happen_ …runs through her head over and over. She may be practical and rough and tumble, but Merida has always had a soft spot for romance in her heart. Her body starts to shake, just slightly, and it has nothing to do with the night breeze blowing across the water. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined marrying someone she did not love completely. She hates to admit it, even to herself, but she’s devastated.

A pair of arms wrap around her suddenly as Macintosh pulls her to his chest. He’s whispering over and over into her hair, “I’m so sorry, Mer. I am so sorry,” one hand at her waist, holding her up, the other stroking her hair calmingly. That’s when she realizes tears are running down her cheeks and she had vocalized all those thoughts running rampant through her head.

Mac hates to see his queen upset, and while he has never admitted it to anyone, he’s half in love with her already. Marrying her is some sort of strange dream come true. But knowing how much she wanted a courtship and flowers and a marriage of love makes the whole thing sour in his mouth. And as suddenly as an arrow strikes its target, he has a plan. Macintosh pushes Merida away slightly, just enough so he can see her green eyes glisten with tears. He wipes them away with gentle fingers and cradles her head in both hands.

“Mer, I dinnae want ye to tell anyone about this yet.” She can tell from the deep edge of his voice and wide eyes that he is completely serious, and his words catch her off guard.

Her brows furrow, confused at the request he’s made. “But why…?” Merida starts, but she is silenced by a finger pressed softly against her lips. As serious as he was before, suddenly a grin splits Macintosh’s face.

“I just dinnae want ye to tell anybody about this until ye absolutely have to. Ye said the council gave ye two weeks before they want to make an announcement?” His finger is still pressed firmly against her mouth, so she just nods instead. “Good. My Queen, Merida…do ye trust me?” He finally moves his hand from her mouth, gently resting it on her shoulder as his eyes burn into hers.

“Of course, Mac. With my life.” The already large grin on his face gets impossibly wider at her words, and he pulls her into another hug.

“Excellent. Then just trust me and wait.” Mac steps away, pressing a kiss to the back of each one of her hands. “We best be getting’ back, milady. We have been out here far too long and I’m afraid the search parties will be out for us if we don’t return with all due haste.”

Merida nods her agreement, wiping the last traces of tears off her face before giving Mac a small grin. He offers her his arm, and she accepts it with only a moments hesitation.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day is quite underwhelming after the emotionally charged night Merida has had. She collapses into bed the instant she walks into her chambers and sleeps without interruption until dawn. The day’s events progress as they normally do, the swirl of meetings and letters trickle on without major disruption. It strikes Merida as funny because even though her personal world has been turned upside down, the rest of her life continues as it always has – tedious and tiring, but always rewarding.

\----- 

Merida slips back into her bedchamber that evening, feeling weariness pulling at her bones. Her feet are sore, and all she wants to do is slip off her gown and sink into her bed. But before she even has the chance to really entertain such wonderful thoughts, there’s a soft knock that echoes through the quiet room. 

When she pulls open the heavy oak door, a brute dismissal already on her lips, she is surprised to see Macintosh standing there. He grins at her, sure and confident and devastatingly charming, before bowing low.

“My Queen, good evening. May I request yer company for a few hours?” Merida is surprised to see him holding out a beautiful, bright yellow rose to her, and she is tongue tied for the span of a few seconds.

“Umm, Mac, what is this all about…?” Her hands shake just slightly as she reaches out to take the rose from his grasp, bringing it up to her nose to inhale the bright, crisp scent of the flower. He does not answer her, just holds out his arm. Sighing, she pulls her slippers back onto her feet and allows herself to be lead out of the room.

They make their way around the castle, silent except for the occasional creak of a floorboard, until they finally wander out the back towards the gardens. There is a glowing ring of lanterns set up in a circle, a blanket and basket laid out inside the brightly lit area. A chuckle bubbles its way up through Merida’s chest and her smile blooms as full as the rose she was given.

Macintosh stops and turns, taking her hand and bowing dramatically low before her. “My lady, yer evening under the stars awaits,” he sweeps his hand toward the picnic area and Merida outright laughs, something warming in her chest.

“Mac, did ye plan a picnic for me?” She feels silly even saying the words – she is a queen for goodness sake, she does not have time for picnics under the cloak of night, but he smiles and Merida’s heart swoops. He takes her by both hands, drawing her close until she can smell the scent of pine wood and warmth that clings to his body.

“Mer, I know how much ye wanted a marriage like yer Ma and Da’s, and I’m so sorry that’s been taken away from ye. I agreed to marry ye and nothin’ will change that, but even so ye deserve to be courted properly. Even if I can only give it to ye for two weeks. I know is not the same thing, but I wanted to at least try.”

Moisture springs into Merida’s eyes as she realizes what Mac is trying to say to her. He wants to give her a _courtship_ , and it seems he wants to give her one full of every ridiculous, romantic whim her heart has ever thought of. She finds it hard to breath as gratitude overwhelms her. She cannot think of what to say – and even if she could her vocal cords seem to have stopped working – so instead Merida throws herself at him with enough force to make Mac stumble backwards before catching his footing. Her arms wrap easily around his neck, and she buries her face into his chest, whispering a hoarse _thank you_ into the warm skin above his heart. He pulls her snug against his body, and presses a kiss to her temple.

“No need for thanks. This is not even close to what ye deserve. But I will gladly spend the rest of forever tryin’ to make ye happy.” His breath dances across the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, and his words make her blood sing.

When she finally pulls away from him, her senses have returned to almost normal. He gives her another grin that lights up his face in the most attractive way possible and she feels color creep up her neck. Mac leads her to where the blanket is laid out, along with a selection of fruits and meats and cheeses and a heavenly mead that Merida is not sure she wants to know how he obtained.

They sit under the stars for hours, just talking. It is easy and relaxing and a relief to know they can still be friends.

It is also somewhat of a relief for Merida when she realizes that, even though she would never have admitted it to herself before, the man before her is _incredibly_ attractive. She has never been interested in a physical relationship before. It is new and odd and she has never had time to even contemplate such things. But, Merida thinks, she is going to _marry_ this man. So she lets her mind wander while they talk, and for the first time she lets herself really look at Macintosh.

Merida comes to the conclusion very quickly that she could easily get lost in his eyes, expressive as they are. The deep blue reminds her of the sea and they shine as brightly as any star she has ever seen. It is breathtaking. When Mac asks her a question, and she doesn’t respond for a good thirty seconds because she is too mesmerized by the flames from the lanterns dancing in his eyes, he asks if something is distracting her. He wears a cheeky grin, as if he knows that she’s been hopelessly lost in his gaze, and heat creeps up her neck to color her cheeks a horrible shade of red.

The mead they have been drinking must have loosened her tongue, because she mumbles something about him having eyes that are too pretty, and how it is so bloody unfair that they are so lovely when she got stuck with ginger hair and green eyes. He laughs for a solid minute until she punches his arm hard enough that he is sure there will be an unfortunate bruise there in the morning.

Mac leans forward and brushes an errant curl out of Merida’s face, fingers lingering against her cheek gently. “Mer, yer a beauty. Don’ ever forget it.” She blushes up to her hairline, both because of his words and the gentle touch that ties her stomach in knots.

He murmurs that it is probably best they both head in for the evening, and Merida is surprised to find that she is vastly disappointed. But she agrees and allows Macintosh to lead her back through the castle, arm tucked firmly around his. He bows, low and reverent, before kissing her hand softly and bidding her a goodnight.

As she slips into bed that night, her heart is lighter than it has been in ages, and for the first time Merida thinks this whole arrangement might not be so bad after all.

\-----

This cycle continues over the next several days. Monotonous daily work followed by an evening out with Mac in some capacity.

\-----

The second night, he brings her a stark white calla lily, and then they walk around the castle perimeter - _seven times_ \- not really talking about anything. By the last time around the wall, Mac’s hand finds hers, articulated by a questioning glance. She laces their fingers together and Merida finds she loves the soothing feel of Mac’s fingers lightly brushing back and forth across her knuckles.

\-----

The next night Mac brings her a light pink hyacinth, delicate but vibrant. He asks her if there is anything she wants to do, and somehow they end up just beyond the castle wall climbing trees together. Merida used to love doing this as a kid, so she scales the tree with ease and grace only obtained by practice. Watching Macintosh repeatedly lose his footing time and time again makes her laugh so hard she nearly falls off the branch she’s perched on. When he finally makes his way to where she is sitting, huffing and grumbling under his breath, she impulsively leans over to pull a twig out of his dark curls, and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. He looks so surprised that it starts Merida laughing again. She feels silly and wonderful, sitting atop a tree branch next to Macintosh as they exchange stories from their childhood.

They finally descend from the tree and they sit, backs leaned against the wide oak tree. There is a field of flowers just off to where they are sitting, and Merida is puzzled when Macintosh makes for the flowers with a pointed determination, picking a small bunch before returning to where she is sitting. He absentmindedly begins weaving the flowers together, and Merida realizes he’s making a floral crown. Her jaw drops, and her eyes are wide. 

Mac laughs at her, before explaining that he had a younger sister who died young (Merida vaguely recalls her parents mentioning something of this when she was a teenager) but that she loved when he made her crowns. He looks thoughtful, fingers still weaving together the bright blooms.

He gives it to her after he’s finished, placing it atop her curls, and she smiles.

\-----

By the fourth night Merida is surprised to find that she is giddy with anticipation at the thought of what Macintosh has planned. He never fails to surprise her.

He never says anything about their evening escapades while they work to keep the country running smoothly, and neither does she. But any members of court who are observant (of whom there are many - Merida’s mother included) would notice that Lord Macintosh has taken some sort of vested interest in the state of their kingdom. And Merida seems to take his opinions openly into consideration. It is different, but everybody quietly agrees that their partnership seems to work.

\-----

On the seventh day of Merida’s whirlwind courtship, they are all getting ready to leave the throne room after petitioners’ court, when Mac whispers into her ear to be ready for supper by seven, and to dress nicely. It is such a quiet thing that she nearly misses it, and he walks away without another word. But the wink he throws her over his shoulder tells her she was right in what she heard.

It is just past 6 when Merida blows into her mother’s dressing room like a storm. Elinor looks quizzically at her daughter, when Merida bursts out with, “I have a date!” She blushes deep and Elinor stifles a laugh at her. The Queen Mother just pats the seat next to her gently, and without further prompting Merida throws herself into the spot and suddenly the entire week of emotions slips out of her at once.

Elinor listens patiently as her daughter rambles on, and she is pleased that Merida came to the decision of marrying Lord Macintosh. She has always thought him a good sort, and if there is anyone in the kingdom who can match her daughter wit for wit, word for word, it is him.

Elinor is also pleased that Merida seems to be quite fond of the young lord. She might not admit it out loud, but the fact that she is sitting here, fretting about her hair and what gown she should choose makes it evident to Elinor that Merida is not nearly as indifferent about the situation as she would like her mother to believe.

After Merida’s long-winded spiel comes to an end, she looks at her mother desperately, and Elinor takes pity on her only daughter, who is so incredibly brave in more ways than one. Elinor leads Merida back to her room, before gently pushing her daughter down into a chair. She spends the next half an hour soothingly working a brush through Merida’s hair, doing something magical that manages to tame the wild curls into perfect ringlets. Merida is tense, and for some reason she seems incredibly nervous – Elinor can wager a guess why, even if Merida would probably vehemently deny it.

Once her hair is finally done, Elinor slips a silver rose clip into the side of her hair, and ventures to Merida’s closet to find a dress for her daughter to wear. It doesn’t take long for her to decide, though. There’s a deep violet, silk gown with full sleeves and delicately embroidered silver laurel leaves that Elinor knows Merida doesn’t wear often, simply because she dubs it too prissy. But the color compliments her fair skin and wild red hair, while still managing to bring out the emerald of her eyes. Elinor shoves the dress at Merida, who already has a protest on her lips. Elinor glares, and Merida withers slightly, words dying before she manages to get them out. She grumbles under her breath as she grabs the dress and slips behind a changing wall. When she emerges, Elinor’s breath catches as she stares at her daughter – who is truly a sight to behold. Tears spring to her eyes, but before she really has a chance to say anything there is a knock, and both Elinor and Merida jump.

Merida opens the door, and when Macintosh sees her, he is speechless. She looks regal, and radiant, and though he has always thought her beautiful, there is something about her that steals his breath. He presents her with her daily flower – a bright pink rose – that she takes with sure hands and places in a vase that contains a bright cacophony of flowers from the week. He starts to lead her from the room, and he belatedly realizes Lady Elinor is sitting off to the side, eyes shining, but she just smiles and waves him off.

They make it to one of the small formal dining rooms – The Gold Room – so named because the walls were a pale, shimmering gold (whoever named the palace rooms was terribly uncreative). There are high windows all around the walls, and normally the sunset makes the room almost effervescent in it’s lightness, but tonight the skies are gray and a heavy rain scratches at the windows. It is still gorgeous nonetheless. Only about half the lanterns in the room are lit, lending the space a soft glow, making it feel more intimate (even though the room is a small formal dining room, it still could comfortably seat about thirty people). There is only one small table set up in the center of the floor, complete with candles, and a small vase containing another pink rose.

They sit, and Merida feels nervous around Macintosh for the first time since that night when she asked him to marry her. Apparently she is not as good at hiding her emotions from him as she thought, because he reaches across the table and grabs her hand, squeezing it lightly, before speaking quietly, “Relax, Mer. I’m no' gonna bite yer head off.” She laughs and some of the tension dissipates.

They enjoy dinner and each other’s company, and once they finally finish dessert, Merida feels about ready burst. They both sit, quiet for a few moments, listening to the rain outside, before Macintosh rises suddenly and holds out a hand to her.

“Would ye like to dance, my Queen?”

Merida looks about the room, searching for something that might resemble a source of music. Not finding anything, she just laughs at his ridiculousness. “But there’s no music…”

He smiles, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her up despite her protests. Mac pulls her close, arm wrapped firmly about her waist.

“Of course there is. Close yer eyes and listen, Mer.” Merida reaches up to place one arm on his shoulder as he grabs her other hand. She closes her eyes, and is amazed when she picks up on the natural beat of the rain pounding on the roof, the wind whistling through the trees, and the leaves rustling. He leads them around the room slowly, gracefully. It is always surprised her just how gracefully Macintosh moves, and she thinks somewhere in the back of her mind that this is the first time they have really danced together. She absolutely will not admit how nice it feels to be in his arms – at least not quite yet. They twirl through the room, the monotonous cool rain and warmth from the candlelight making Merida feel warm and safe and just a tad bit sleepy. Her eyes drift shut, and she finds her head slipping forward to rest on his chest. She can hear his heart stutter just a little, and he pulls her closer.

It takes her a few moments to realize that they’ve stopped moving, and when Merida looks up at Mac, she can see something akin to what she would call passion bright in his blue eyes.

“Mer...I’m gonna kiss ye now, if that’s alright.” His voice is quiet, and the sleepiness that had been fogging down her mind is suddenly gone, and it feels like every inch of her skin is set on fire. She knew that this was coming, maybe not exactly at this moment, but it was something they were going to have to get to eventually. Some sort of physicality was necessary in marriage, and even though Merida thought she would be incredibly nervous when this moment came, she finds she is totally at ease. Her heart does pick up pace, but she recognizes that it is not so much nerves as excitement – which throws her for a momentary loop.

He cradles her head between his hands tenderly, as if she is something precious to behold, and presses his lips to hers gently. It is an exquisite feeling, and instinctively she leans farther up into him. One of his hands slides into her hair, the other slips to her waist, something she is thankful for because suddenly her legs feel like jelly. She holds onto his shoulders for dear life as he kisses her over and over and over until everything is numb and hazy with warmth and a feeling of being wanted.

When he finally pulls back, just slightly, the room starts to swirl around her. He presses light kisses to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, and then wraps her up in a hug. Mac lifts her up into his arms spinning her around the room and she laughs, bright and full, the sound filling the room with warmth.

“Mac if ye don’ stop and put me down I’m likely to get dizzy and be sick.” He barks out a surprised laugh before setting her back on her feet, leading her back to her chair and getting her a glass of water which she downs in three gulps. Her face is flushed, but so is his, and they are wearing matching grins.

“Was that all right, my Queen?” He is still smiling, but she can hear the hesitation in his voice, and it makes her heart swell. Even through everything – even despite the fact that they are going to be getting married – he still wants to make sure she is ok, make sure he hasn’t over-stepped his boundaries.

She stands, grabs him by the front of his plaid, and pulls him into a thorough kiss that leaves them both breathless.

“That was more than all right, Lord Macintosh,” her voice is hoarse as she speaks, “and I believe I will be requiring ye to kiss me many, many more times.”

His grin turns dark as he pulls her flush against his body, before proving without a doubt that he would do just that.

\-----

The next week flies by, and before Merida knows it, it is the evening before she is supposed to announce to the council who she has chosen to marry.

She finds that she is a bit disappointed, not because of the fact that she’s being forced to marry, but because they have to _tell_ people. And that means losing this special magic that has been created between the two of them over the course of the last few weeks.

But nevertheless, Macintosh shows up that evening, ready to lead her off somewhere. She is a little disappointed to see him without a flower, and she kicks herself for being so ridiculous. He takes her by the hand and leads her to the stables before telling her to saddle up Angus, and that they’re going out for a ride.

She is surprised when he leads her back to the oceanfront, quite close to the same spot where they sat just a few weeks ago. He tells her to go ahead down to the water and that he’ll tie up the horses. Merida doesn’t need to be told twice as she practically skips down to the water. It’s warmer than it had been the last time they were here, and Merida is able to wade into the breaking ocean.

She closes her eyes, and is proud of herself when she does not jump at the feel of Mac’s arm sliding around her waist, pulling her to lean back against his chest. She loves the way their bodies seem to fit together, and she’s found that touching him and kissing him is much easier than she thought it would ever be. It’s natural and wonderful and Merida wonders how she managed to go this long without some form of physical closeness in her life.

She hears a rustling somewhere off behind her, and finally opens her eyes when Mac clears his throat. She’s greeted to the site of a dozen full, gorgeous red roses, and Merida actually gasps. 

She takes them from him before turning around to look up into his eyes.

“Mac they’re gorgeous…thank ye.” She’s so entranced by the flowers in her hands that Merida doesn’t notice the look of pure adoration shining in Macintosh’s eyes. She looks lovely, he thinks, with this innocent look of wonder pulsing around her. There are words on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be spoken, promises of love and devotion and a lifetime of care, but he knows she isn’t ready for that just yet. So he goes with, “Yer welcome, Merida. Though they’re nowhere near as beautiful as you,” instead. She blushes and leans up to press a kiss to his mouth, and he knows that he chose the right words.

They walk out of the waves, up the beach just a way, and there’s a strange expectation in the air.

“Ye know we have to tell the council tomorrow. About us.” Merida’s words are soft, as if speaking them too loudly will somehow break everything they’ve build over the last two weeks.

“Aye, I know that, milady. Having second thoughts?” He says it jokingly, but she knows the question is serious. He wants to make sure she hasn’t changed her mind suddenly.

“Never,” the word is spoken vehemently, and Merida is surprised at herself. It’s an unusual way for them to have fallen together, but she’s unexpectedly happy with how everything has played out.

“And how have ye enjoyed yer two-week courtship, my Queen? I know it only a fraction of what ye deserved, but…” she smiles, pressing her finger against his lips, just like he had done to her the last time they were there.

“It was more than I could’ve ever imagined, Mac. Ye didnae have tae do it, but it was…amazing.” She wishes she could find a better word to accurately describe just how he’s made her feel the last few weeks, but Merida finds it is impossible to articulate. Though he seems to understand, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Well, I’m glad tae hear that. But there’s still one more thing.” All of a sudden he seems…jittery, he shuffles his feet in the cool sand, having kicked off his shoes earlier. Merida is utterly confused by the drastic switch in his demeanor, and means to say something, but he cuts her off.

“I know we’ve sorta already done this part, but if ye deserved a proper courtship, then ye most definitely deserve a proper proposal…” Merida is speechless as Macintosh lowers himself to one knee, and pulls out a small ring box.

“Merida, my beautiful Queen of DunBroch, would ye give me the immense joy and honor of becoming’ my wife?” Tears spring to her as flips open the ring box to reveal a delicate ring set with a blue stone that glistens just like his eyes, surrounded by a multitude of white gems. She’s breath taken.

“I believe I asked ye first, Lord Macintosh…but yes. Of course I’ll marry ye.” She manages to choke out, and she sees the relief wash over his face as he slips the ring onto her finger. He pulls her down to him to press an ardent kiss to her lips. He presses her into the damp sand as he kisses her, and they aren’t quite sure which one of them is crying.

(they both are)

It is a beautiful ending to an amazing two weeks, and a wonderful beginning to the rest of their lives.

\-----

The next morning when Merida stands before an assembly consisting of her subjects and her council members, ring glistening on her finger, Macintosh standing behind her, hand pressed to the small of her back, and announces proudly that she and the Lord Macintosh are to be married at the end of the summer, the applause nearly deafens both of them. The cheers ring through the throne room, and someone loudly yells for them to kiss. Merida blushes prettily at the words, and Macintosh swings her around to pull her into a whistle-inducing kiss that prolongs the cheers for another two minutes. When the room has finally settled and the endless parade of congratulations begins, Merida is truly thankful to have Macintosh at her side. She says this to him, and he kisses her temple, telling her she’ll never have to be without him, and Merida finds this entirely agreeable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all she wrote, folks! *whew* that was a beast to tackle. But I really loved it and I hope you guys did too. Who knows, there may even be a part 3 lurking somewhere in my mind (their “I love you’s”, the wedding, who knows…).
> 
> Shoutout to Probalicious17 over on tumblr for thinking of the title! You're the best! 
> 
> Also, I didn’t just randomly pick the flowers Mac gave to Merida. I have a strange obsession with flowers and their meanings. So yeah, I’m a dork and couldn’t just arbitrarily pick them. Took me ages to decide. For anyone who wants to know…
> 
> Pink rose - friendship
> 
> White calla lily - regal, magnificent, innocence
> 
> Pink hyacinth - playfulness, sincerity 
> 
> Red rose - passionate love, a dozen red roses symbolizes true love
> 
> And in my head, the flower crown he makes her has purple tulips, which symbolize royalty. Because I truly am a nerd/helpless romantic.
> 
> Hugs and kisses, friends! I love you all!
> 
> Allie


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was only supposed to be two parts. Somehow I ended up with six. I don't even know, y'all.

When Merida looks back on this period of her life in 10, 20 years, she will distinctly remember a few things.

She will remember awkwardness and stress. Merida decides that trying to rule a country, plan a wedding that has quickly taken on a life of its own, and still continue to foster an incredibly new, delicate relationship with the man who is to become her husband is an awful lot to take on. Even for her.

She will remember a period of adjustment, and a time of transition. A time where she has to learn how to rule with somebody else standing at her side. She has been guiding her country alone for such a long time that it takes both Merida and Macintosh a while to figure out where they both belong in terms of leading their people. But what they end up realizing is that they belong side by side. They compliment each other; where her knowledge has gaps, he fills in, and vice versa. It’s not one being better than the other, but knowing where they each have weaknesses and letting the other lift them up. Admitting weakness is not something either is used to, but behind closed doors, they can confide and learn from each other. They figure out that together, they can be unstoppable.

She will remember stolen moments of peace, and learning for the first time how to really love another person, inside and out. Macintosh adamantly continues to court Merida throughout the wedding planning, and those quiet bits of time soak her soul in tranquility and give her strength to face the day. Being around him, Merida decides, is like melting from the inside out, while simultaneously being built anew from the flames. It’s magical, finding love with him, something she never imagined possible when they sat on a cold beachfront together and she quietly asked him to stand by her forever.

But it takes a while for them to reach that point.

\-----

Merida finds she’s suddenly acquired some new massive tasks in her life in the span of just a few days. The first task, monstrous and daunting and something like a killer beast, is planning a wedding. She knows next to nothing about planning parties and events; it has never interested her and therefore learning about such things has never been high on her priority list. But suddenly she has to manage to put together what is basically the biggest party to happen since…well, probably since her parents got married. But Merida doesn’t even have a place to start, let alone an idea of what this monster will look like.

Most weddings in DunBroch are simple: small ceremony with some family and close friends, both parties wear their nicest garb, huge celebration (with lots of ale) afterwards. If Merida had her way, that is what she would have.

But apparently the wedding of a royal, especially the queen, has to be special and important.

And Merida has no idea what she’s doing. 

She ends up asking her mother, hoping that Elinor can shed some light on what exactly is supposed to happen. Her Ma hands her a dusty book that she was given while planning her own wedding - she promises to help with as much as she possible, but suggests the old book to Merida first.

Merida spends the next three nights curled up by the fire in her room, pouring over the large tome with yellowing pages and a delicate spine. She isn’t exactly sure when the book was written, but it certainly wasn’t in the last hundred years. Despite its age, it offers good advice, gives her a solid starting point to go off of, and a rough idea of all the tasks ahead of her.

It also leaves her with way more questions than answers. Which was not exactly what Merida had been hoping for. So as the sun is sinking low, warm light reflecting through her open window, she sends a note to Macintosh, telling him she needs to see him at once.

\-----

Mac finally makes it to her room about two hours after she sends for him. He stands outside of her door, arm raised to knock, until he hears what sounds like someone breaking furniture. He knocks once, tentatively, and on no answer, he pushes the door open and walks in.

He’s greeted to the site of his majestic queen and future wife, standing on her bed, whacking at the frame with her sword. It’s ridiculous on so many levels, but it brings a grin to his face.

“Y’know, yer Ma told me ye used to like to beat up yer bedframe as a girl. I somehow thought ye had outgrown the habit.” Merida freezes at his words, the smirk evident in his voice. He’s leaning against her now closed door, arms crossed as he watches her, mouth curled upward in an amused grin. She clears her throat and tries to look as dignified as she possibly can whilst standing on her bed like a toddler.

“Aye, well, the training field was much too far away and old habits die hard.” He laughs outright at that statement and makes his way to the edge of the bed, surveying the marks she’s cut into the post frame.

“I can see that m’queen. How many times have ye had to have the frame fixed on this thing?” She knows he’s making fun of her, and she can feel red color her cheeks.

“Only two or three…or maybe six…times. I’m no quite sure.” He rolls his eyes at her good-naturedly before grabbing her about the waist to pull her down. She drops the sword and grabs at his shoulders as he helps her from the bed. Instead of releasing her waist, though, he pulls her tight into his body once her feet are on solid ground.

“Ye haven’ been around the last few nights. What have ye been doin’?” Merida takes him by the hand and pulls him to sit in front of the fireplace, grabbing the dusty old book she has come to know very well.

She throws it in his lap before curling up on the other side of the couch. “That is what I’ve been doin’,” Macintosh eyes the book skeptically, before leafing through a few pages.

“What in the name of seven hells is this on about?” Merida smiles at his words; she’d had very near the same thought when she first went through the old book.

“That is about our weddin’. Or at least, wedding traditions. I’ve read it cover to cover the last three nights.” Merida curls her feet up on the couch and Macintosh whistles low in appreciation as he thumbs through the pages of the old book, skimming paragraphs about decorations and who to invite in order to not ruffle feathers. 

“Tha’s an impressive feat. Has it helped ye any?” She plays with the hem of her dress and shrugs.

“Well it answered a few questions I had…but it raises more questions than it answers and now my head is swimming. Apparently,” she shoots him a wry grin, “the marriage of a queen is somethin’ of a big deal.”

“I probably coulda told ye that without the help of yer fancy old book, Mer.” He closes the tome, and sets it on the floor before reaching out a hand to pull her closer. She shuffles herself, rearranging them so she can fold herself into his side, feet tucked up behind her. Mac wraps a firm around around her shoulder and plays with a few of her curls as her head sinks to his shoulder. 

“I don’ know where to start with all of this. It’s…daunting to say the least.” She feels more than hears Macintosh hum his agreement, the sound reverberating deep and low through his chest; it sends a shiver up her spine and she pulls up tighter to his body.

“Well, I’m no expert on the subject, m’lady, but I would say that a date is probably a good first step.”

Merida has at least given this part some thought. She doesn’t need to drag the whole thing out any longer than necessary. “How about the first day of fall? It’s between harvests so it won’t disrupt the work, but it’s also still warm enough that all the celebratory parties that’ll happen after can be outside.” Macintosh stops fiddling with her hair and raises a brow at her in surprise.

“Merida that’s only…what, just over four months hence? Is that enough time to get everythin’ planned properly?”

She’s wondered that exact thing herself. It’s a lot to do, to be sure. But the idea of extending the process any longer makes Merida twitchy and uncomfortable. The sooner she can see herself married, the quicker the council leaves her alone. She’s willing to give it her all or die trying.

“I’m sure it is. If ye have no other objections, then?” She holds her breath and glances up at him, only to find that he’s already staring at her. His face is serious, and Merida wishes she could read his mind to figure out what he’s thinking. But he smiles at her, though the grin is tight and his eyes betray worry.

“No other objections on my end, my dear queen, if that’s what pleases ye.” Merida breathes a sigh of relief. One thing checked off on an infinitely long list of things to go. But still, progress in any form in good enough. Her eyes slip shut, the rhythm of Mac’s heartbeat lulling her into a sense of quiet and security as his fingers rub gentle circles into her upper arm. Merida has no regrets about marrying this man.

She startles awake some time later; the sun has completely vanished and the room is dark except for the crackle of the fire in the hearth and a candle burning at her bedside table. Mac is still sitting there, and Merida mentally berates herself for summoning him to her room only to fall asleep on him. Quite literally, as it may be. But he looks content for all it’s worth, his one arm is still wrapped firmly around her, though it has moved from her shoulders to her waist. His fingers rest lightly over her stomach, and there are traitor butterflies dancing and flitting about. He’s holding that old dusty book in his other hand, reading through sections, seeming perfectly happy to be sitting and looking through a book on marriage customs.

“Mac, ye shouldn’ have let me fall asleep,” her voice is thick and her eyelids still heavy, threatening to close even as she wills herself to stay awake.

“Is no problem,” Macintosh stands, pulling Merida up with him, so he can look at her. “Ye seemed like ye needed the rest. Might I suggest bed now?” He turns her so he can steer her towards the bed, and it takes her sleep-addled brain a few seconds to react. She digs her heels into the ground, causing him to run into her back.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll head to sleep shortly. Just need to read through a few letters beforehand. Ye should head off, though,” her words are groggy and slow, but they come out. He just fixes her with a frown.

“Are ye sure it can’t wait, Mer? Ye look ready to drop on the spot. Anythin’ I can do to help?”

“I can handle it, Lord Macintosh,” she snaps, and instantly regrets the tone. He withdraws his hand from it’s place on her back and takes a step away from her. He bows low, and doesn’t say another word before he slips out the door. Merida kicks the bed in frustration.

She spends the rest of the night sitting at her desk, pouring over letters and that damn book until she can barely see straight. She makes it to bed just a few hours before sunrise.

\-----

Mac gives her a wide berth the next few days and Merida is disgusted to find that she is genuinely upset about his lack of presence in her daily activities. They sit next to each other during council but the foot between them might as well be an ocean for all its worth. He doesn’t look at her directly, and his replies to her questions are short and formal.

After that he ends up taking leave for Macintosh lands in order to settle some things there. He tells her he’s leaving the morning of his departure with a cold shoulder and a “by your leave,” and then he’s gone. No word of what things he has to settle, no indication of when he’ll be back (Lord Dingwall sees her obvious distress and takes pity, telling her Mac’ll only be gone for a week).

\-----

She spends her nights (and a good portion of her days) locked in her room, bouncing between petitions, letters of trade and diplomacy, updates on how crops are doing, and wedding details. It’s enough to make anyone go mad. Her sleep becomes less over the few days, and what sleep she does get is fitful and plagued with restlessness. Food becomes more of an inconvenience than a necessity and she’s sure she would forget were it not for her ladies’ maid who always brings her a plate from the mess hall.

Merida sees the people around her begin to worry, especially her mother, but she brushes off any concern with a smile that doesn’t quite ring sincere and a wave of hand.

It’s probably the tenth night Merida has spent locked in her room when there’s a loud, thunderous pounding on her door. She means to ignore it, the door is locked after all, but there’s a loud crack and Merida looks over with wide eyes to see her door damn near splintered in half, a raging Lord Macintosh standing just inside her room. She sputters for a few seconds trying to choose accurate words of disapproval that aren’t merely strings of curses.

“What in the name of blazin’ hell do ye think yer doin’ Lord Macintosh?”

“I am presently tryin’ to keep ye from workin’ yerself into an early grave, my queen.” His voice is low, and the words come out as more of a snarl than an actual sentence. Merida is actualy taken aback by the venom in his words.

“What do ye mean by such nonsense?” Macintosh snorts at her words and crosses the room to where she stands in four powerful strides.

“What do I mean? Merida, I get back two hours ago to a stack of letters on my desk all expressing concern because nobody has seen the queen for more than a few hours in the span of a week. Yer Ma was positively beside herself with worry. Everyone is in a panic because frankly, ye look terrible. I am worried. Hamish said ye’ve been lockin’ yerself in here every night and won’t let anyone talk to ye.” By the time he gets to the end of his tirade, Merida thinks he looks calmer. His words quiet to a natural stillness. There’s still lingering anger in his eyes, but more obvious is the worry.

“I’m sorry for breakin’ the door, truly. I am sorry for yellin’. But milady ye have to understand that people were well and rightly scared that ye were hurt or ailing.” His voice turns desperate, hoping she can find understanding in his words.

Merida takes a step closer to him, at a loss for what to say. Her brain is a little slow at comprehending what he says. She blinks, long and hard, trying to figure out what she’s supposed to say to him next. Apologize? Explain? Neither are exactly common course for a queen. But then she remembers that she’s standing toe-to-toe with the man who is to become king, and figures that if she can apologize and explain her actions to anyone, it’s going to be him.

She sighs, sinking back into her desk chair. He follows her to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk, pulling it around so he can grab her hand and look her in the eye; so they don’t have a physical and metaphorical expanse between them.

“I’m sorry I’ve been worryin’ everyone. It was no ever my intention.” Her words are slow, her sentences punctuated by a moment of stillness. Mac frowns slightly; he notices everything about his queen, he swore to protect her and that means knowing her thoughts and mannerisms inside and out, and he knows she’s always been a fast talker. Her words tend to tumble over themselves, one after another without stop, because that’s how fast she thinks. This slow, lethargic speech from her is worrisome, but he keeps it to himself.

“I’ve just been busy, and I seem to be most productive here. In my room. By myself.” Merida shrugs helplessly.

He sighs, gives her hand a gentle tug until she rises from her seat, her gaze confused. Mac pulls her down into his lap so he can wrap his arms fully about her waist, and she just seems to droop, head falling to his shoulder with a heavy thunk. He runs a hand up and down her back gently, and the calming, repetitive motion nearly puts her to sleep. The sound of his voice in her ear is the only thing that keeps her awake.

“I’m sorry, Mer. For leavin’ the way I did. It was untoward and disrespectful. Yer still my queen, and ye deserve to be treated as such.” He brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear so he can place a lingering kiss high on her cheek. It’s warm and his warm breath dancing along her face makes her stomach knot and her toes tingle.

“Aye, well, I was no exactly actin’ like very queenly when I dismissed ye from my room the other night. I suppose I ought to apologize for that as well.” She mumbles the sentence into his shoulder and he can barely make out the words, soft as she’s speaking. “How about this? I forgive you if you forgive me?”

She sits up to give him a desperate look, and he’s surprised at the hurt he sees there. “I will always forgive you, my dear Queen. No matter what.” She smiles at him and leans forward to press her lips to his. He exhales warmly as he moves to cradle her head in his hand, directing her slightly so he can get a better angle to her mouth. It’s soft and easy and warm, like being wrapped in a favorite blanket, and though she’s had very little experience kissing lads in her life, she wagers that Mac’s kisses are easily some of the best.

She doesn’t realize until much later that they didn’t really solve the issue that is at the core of their argument.

\-----

Macintosh does his best over the course of the next month to run interference and keep his Queen from doing herself in. He pulls her out of her dark, quiet room and forces her to live. She has subjects who want to see her, family who need to know she is alright, and friends who genuinely care. Macintosh wants her to see that.

So he takes her to gatherings in the warm summer night air where she drinks and laughs and he can almost believe she’s more than the tired shell of a woman who he’s been trying desperately to keep alive; he dances with her and when Merida smiles, blistering and hot and just the slightest bit tipsy, it melts his bones. For those few moments, Mac lets himself believe that she is really ok.

\-----

He tells her he loves her late one night in an empty corridor, the words slipping out without his consent.

Macintosh has been in love with her for a while, and she has more or less figured it out (she figures his love is what’s driving him to keep her sane, because it has crossed her mind that it would be much easier for him to just let her die of exhaustion – he’d be the one to get the crown next anyway). But even with that inkling of knowledge, it catches her by surprise.

It catches him by surprise too, but he can’t regret telling her. Suddenly those three massive words turn into an avalanche of him earnestly trying to get across what he feels. He doesn’t expect her to be ready to make such declarations to him – and he tells her such, for which she is inexplicably touched and appreciative.

But he does love her, for better of for worse; she can see it in his gaze, feel it in his warm embrace, knows it down to her bones when he pleads with her to please get some rest, Mer. That knowledge sparks something inside of her, causes her heart to flutter and butterfly wings to pound intensely in her stomach as someone holds a match to her veins.

Merida lays awake late that night, thinking, yes, Macintosh may be a pain in her arse more days than not, but having his love, for some crazy, unknown reason, makes her feel _powerful_. And maybe, just maybe, loving him back might not be the most difficult thing she’s ever had to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Everything finally crashes down around Merida about two months before the wedding. It’s a normal day for the most part, court is in session and Merida and Elinor are busy there. Mac is off running drills with some of the men. It’s unseasonably warm and the air is heavy, dark clouds rolling in from the south indicative of a storm brewing.

A young page runs up to Macintosh in the field, bowing before telling him Lady Elinor needs him at once in the throne room. He’s caught off guard at the summons, knowing that petitioners court is in full swing (or at least should be). But he nods once, pats MacGuffin on the shoulder, telling him to take over drills for a bit more, before running into the castle.

He arrives at the throne room, and the doors are flung open wide to try and air out the stuffy heat that makes it hard to breath. There’s a young man speaking to Merida as she sits on the throne, talking about some sort of land dispute, though Mac doesn’t pay much attention. He slips in the back unnoticed, quickly reaching Lady Elinor’s side. He places one hand on her shoulder, not wanting to disrupt the room. Her shoulders are tense, the edges of her eyes tight, lips pressed into a thin line. He’s about to ask what the problem is when he hears her murmur, “Look at her.”

There’s no guessing who she means, and when Macintosh looks at Merida - really looks at her - he’s taken aback. She’s sickly pale, so much so that even her fiery red hair seems dull and flat. There’s a fine line of perspiration on her brow, though it is warm in the large room, and the dark circles under her eyes are evident even from where they stand off to the side. He doesn’t have the words to ask what is wrong with his queen, but Elinor seems to read his mind and answer the unspoken question.

“Lord Macintosh, she hasn’t slept in near a week. I couldna tell ye the last time she ate somethin’ of substance. She’s runnin’ herself into the ground and is gonna kill herself at this rate.” Her voice is quiet and tight, and her eyes shine with tears born of worry for her eldest daughter, who seems to be doing her damnedest to see an early grave. As if to emphasize the seriousness of the situation, Merida starts to sway slightly in her seat, and Elinor’s jaw sets tight.

“Get her out of here, Cothric. I’ll see to the rest of the room. Just get her out of here before somethin’ happens.” Mac nods his assent. The young farmer finishes his piece, Merida promises to look into the situation, and the room breaks into quiet chatter as they prepare to bring up the next person. Macintosh and Elinor sweep into action at once, he making his way up the dais, the queen mother hot on his heels. Merida looks confused, but her whole body seems slow to react and heavy with grogginess. He grabs her by both hands, pulling her off to a serving entrance as Elinor quietly speaks to the assembled room.

Macintosh leads her through the servants’ halls, Merida not speaking a word, which tells him just how bad off she is. Her legs shake as she walks, and he situates his arm around her waist to keep her upright. They make it to his bedchamber - infinitely closer than her own quarters on the other end of the castle, and he pulls her inside before bolting the door behind them. He sits her on the edge of his bed, and she continues to sway back and forth, unsteady even in sitting. He takes a place next to her, and Merida automatically leans to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Mer, ye aren’t well…when was the last time ye slept?” Merida tries to recall, but her brain is like sludge, thick and murky and she can’t even really tell which way is up at the moment. Her blank stare is all the answer he needs. Macintosh sighs, and kisses her forehead. “Ye need to sleep, my love. Ye will be no use to anyone if ye drop dead of exhaustion.” She nods - at least, it looks like a nod. Sort of. He pulls her to her feet to help her out of her gown.

The world lurches suddenly around her; there’s a sharp stabbing pain in the back of her neck, and everything fades to black as she crumbles to the ground.

\-----

Merida stirs later that evening - or what she assumes to be evening. Everything is dark and there’s a steady tapping outside as rain meets the window pane. She’s disoriented (this is definitely not her bed, she knows that), but her mind is still too distorted, too foggy, to really form coherent thought.

The door clicks open and shut, and then Mac is there next to her, kneeling at the bedside, cradling her head with one hand.

“How are ye feeling, love?” His voice is soothing to the aching drum beat in her head. Her mouth is dry and it feels like she’s been eating cotton for a month. Merida shakes her head gently and Mac sighs.

“Go back to sleep, Mer. Yer exhausted. I’ll be just over there if ye need me.” Macintosh gestures over to a palate that’s been set up in front of the hearth. He stands, presses a kiss to her forehead, but somehow through all the cloudiness in her mind, Merida still manages to reach out and grab his hand before he steps away.

She croaks out, “Will ye lay with me? Please?” Her voice sounds strange to her own ears, scratchy and dull. He presses a warm, lingering kiss to her forehead

“‘Course I will. Give me a mo to change.” Merida’s eye slip shut. She hears him puttering around the room for a brief minute, and then feels the bed dip slightly where he’s crawled in next to her. Mac slides her over, and she curls instinctively into his side as he guides her head to his chest. She’s lulled back to sleep by the gentle beat of his heart under her ear.

\-----

When Merida awakes next, she’s much more alert, but still terribly confused. Her eyes strain open. The room is dark, the sky outside gloomy and gray and all around miserable. There are a few candles burning in the room, making everything glow eerily. It’s not helping the cloudiness lingering at the edge of her vision. She sees Macintosh sitting at a desk in the corner under a large window, body hunched over a stack of letters as he intently reads, scribbling things down on a parchment periodically as he goes.

“Mac?” Her voice comes out in a ghastly croak, and it hurts something fierce.

He spins in his seat, quickly abandoning whatever he was reading to come to her side. McIntosh perches himself at the edge of the bed, face etched with concern.  
“How are ye doin’, my queen?” He intones as he brushes a piece of hair out of her eye. Merida pushes herself up into sitting, and immediately the world begins to spin. She reaches out, and Mac steadies her until she’s able to see straight.

“I feel like I’ve been trampled by a horse, stuffed in a barrel and been forced to swallow cotton.” He gives her a tight grin, gets up and goes back to the desk, pouring a glass of water which she proceeds to drink in a few giant gulps. He gets her another, and she repeats the action.

“Better?” He asks her, and she nods, feeling the stinging in her throat subside.

“What happened, Mac? One second I’m in petitioner’s court, next I’m wakin’ up here. Yer room, I’m guessin’?”

Macintosh smiles at her, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aye, it was closer than tryin’ to get ye to yer own room. As for what happened, ye looked like death warmed over, Mer. Yer Ma told me to get ye out of court, and a good thing I did because not ten minutes later ye collapsed and were out cold. Nearly gave me a heart attack.” Merida winces at his icy tone and the glare he fixes her.

“Healer said ye were exhausted to the point ye were about to drop, and ye needed sleep. I’m surprised yer awake this soon.”

“What time is it?”

“Ahhh,” he tilts his head to the side, pausing to think for a moment, “well yer Ma just finished handlin’ petitioners court, so a few hours past midday, I’d wager.”

Merida bolts forward in alarm. “A day? I’ve been asleep for an entire day??” She does her best to try and push past Macintosh to get out of the bed, but he grabs her shoulders tightly and holds her where she is.

“Aye, and ye need to sleep about another two.” Merida notices for the first time that he is angry. There’s barely concealed fire burning in his eyes as he firmly pushes her back down into the pillows.

“The healer said ye probably hadn’t had a proper meal in days, not even a guess about the last time ye had a full night’s sleep. Are ye tryin’ to kill yourself?” There’s no hiding the anger now, his body vibrating with energy, and Merida has the sense to look properly shameful.

“I’m just…I’m so busy. I’ve got so much to do with tryin’ to plan the wedding and keep everything runnin’ smoothly and, and…there just aren’t enough hours to get everythin’ done.” Merida visibly wilts under the strain of her words, as if the weight of the world rests solely on her shoulders. Macintosh goes from anger to heartbreak in the span of three breaths, watching Merida crumple forward, head folded into her hands as tears quietly roll down her face.

He scoots closer, pulling Merida into his chest as he runs a hand up and down her back, trying to soothe away the tears.

“Why didn’t ye say anything to me? Or to yer Ma?” He tries to keep his bubbling anger in check, voice soft as it tickles her ear. She shrugs, pulling away and hastily wiping tears off her face, head bowed, hair falling in a curtain around her face, obscuring her eyes from his gaze.

Macintosh grabs her chin in one hand, tilting it up so he can see her bright green eyes, so sad, and still so, so tired.

“Merida, ye can no’ keep doin’ this. I get it, I really do. Ye forget that I know you. Ye want to take on the stresses of the masses without anyone seein’ the damage, but yer goin’ to work yourself to death at this rate.” She wilts even more under his words, if that’s even possible, but he presses on.

“Part of the reason I’m marryin’ ye is because this is too much for one person alone…Mer, ye aren’t alone in this anymore. Ye have to lean on me a little bit…we have to be partners, or this won’t work.” His words are soft and pleading, and Merida feels desperately overwhelmed.

She’s never really had anyone to share this wonderful, terrible burden with. Her mother is there for guidance, of course, but she did her time, paid her dues. This is supposed to be Merida’s turn. And Mac’s official presence at her side is still something new. Sure, he stood by her before, offered help and advice when she asked, but his opinions were only heard at her discretion. This is different. This is him actively standing at her side, asking her to let him carry half the strain that comes with running a country.

“Partners?” Her voice is questioning, and though it’s only one word, he hears an entire soliloquy in the space between them.

“Aye, Mer, partners. I help you, you help me, we get it done. Win together, lose together.”

“I just…I, I don’t want ye to think me weak…or think that I can’t handle all of this.”

She feels small in this quiet admission, but it’s always been something that has lingered at the back of her mind. Hadn’t this been one of the reasons he had nearly mutinied against her? Because he thought she was incapable of leading on her own?

Macintosh seems to realize the path her mind has gone down, and kicks himself for ever planting this seed of doubt in her head. It’s something he will never, ever forgive himself for - for causing his strong-willed, blazing bright queen to doubt her own strength.

“I am only goin’ to say this once, so listen to me and listen well. Merida ye are amazing. You ran this country, by yourself, for over three years, and did it brilliantly. If you’ve proved yourself once, you’ve done it a hundred times over. No one, least of all me, doubts your ability to rule. But now…ye don’t have to do it all on yer own. I want to help ye, and I will never think less of ye for that. Ye hear me?” 

Merida takes a moment to process everything he’s said. She nods, and gives him a shaky grin, and even though it’s small, it is might and terribly powerful. He flashes a grin back at her before pressing a kiss to her lips. It’s chaste, but it’s also a promise. Partners.

Together, they’re going to be unstoppable.

\-----

Mac doesn’t really let her out of bed for the rest of the day, and honestly, she’s fine with that. She is still so tired, and their unexpectedly intense conversation wipes what little energy she had built up. He brings her food, and even though the site of food makes her stomach churn with hunger, he doesn’t let her eat more than a little at a time.

_(“I don’ need ye throwin’ up from eating too much when yer already weak as a newborn lamb,” he jokes, and she punches him in the arm hard enough to prove that even at the very far limits of her strength, she will not hesitate to let him know exactly how “weak” she is. He loves it. He loves her.)_

The next day the healer finally clears Merida to get out of bed. She’s still not really allowed to do any work, but Mac suggests breakfast and then maybe a walk to the stables, and she wholeheartedly agrees. It feels good to be out of bed and stretch her muscles, after being stuck there for two days, but her legs threaten to give out from under her due to lack of use and lack of nutrients. She feels helpless, trying to stubbornly clean and dress herself, only to belatedly admit she needs assistance. Macintosh doesn’t say a word. He washes her hair, brushes it, even helps her lace up the corset on her gown and put on her shoes.

He offers his arm to her as they get ready to leave for food, and Merida looks ready to tell him she doesn’t need his help walking. But her legs are still shaky and he nudges her, whispering, “Hey. Partners, remember?” She smiles brightly, rolls her eyes, and cuffs him upside the head, even as she leans on him for support.

They get to the main dining hall, and she breaks off for one side of the room where her mother, brothers, and a few council members are sitting, he makes for the table where Lord MacGuffin and Lord Dingwall are. He watches her as she maneuvers through the room, slowly but determined, and he is in awe of her strength.

_Taking on the weight of the world without letting anyone see the damage._

Well, anyone but him.

_(The thrill of joy at that thought is enough to get him through the entire breakfast conversation with Wee and Guff without wanting to bash their heads together.)_

They talk about training drills and getting ready for crop harvest in a few weeks, until Lady Elinor taps him on the shoulder lightly.

“Morning, boys. A word, Lord Macintosh?” She nods towards the door and he rises. They step just outside the large doors before the Queen Mother speaks.

“Merida looks well this morning.” The statement is just that, a statement. But there’s an expectation unspoken at the end.

“Aye, lady. She’s well rested.” He states matter-of-factly, unsure of what he’s supposed to say.

“What did ye say to her? To get her to slow down?” Macintosh chuckles at the question.

“My lady, she only slowed down because her body would not let her go anymore. But we…we reached an understanding, I think.” He grins.

Lady Elinor pulls him into a hug; he’s caught of guard and it’s slightly awkward, but he returns the embrace after a moment’s hesitation.

“Thank you for takin’ care of my girl,” Elinor tells him, her voice thick honest with emotion as she takes a step back. His cheeks turn pink at the unexpected words, and he rubs the back of his neck, feet shuffling as he gives her an awkward smile.

“No need for thanks. We’re in this together.” Elinor’s smile is bright as her eyes shine with tears. Merida chooses this moment to burst through the door.

“Stables, Lord Macintosh? If ye aren’t goin’ to let me do any real work today, I should at least go give Angus a good brushing.” She grins, and Elinor thinks it makes her daughter’s whole body shine.

Macintosh bows, offering his arm as he says, “Of course, milady. Your wish is my command.” Merida snorts and rolls her eyes.

“Oh aye, somehow I doubt that.” Macintosh looks offended at her lack of trust, but instead of taking his arm, she grabs his hand and laces their fingers together, pulling him toward the stable yard, waving at her mother as their good-natured banter continues long past what Elinor can hear.

Elinor breezes back into the dining hall, determined to get another cup of tea before her day begins. Her daughter still needs to rest and recuperate, but Elinor knows that Merida is in good hands.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At 8100 words this is the longest single chapter of anything i've ever written. It's also the reason this story is getting a bump up in rating (ie here there be sexy times!). It's my first ever attempt at writing smut, so let me know if it's any good. 
> 
> Somewhere between part 4 and this part is where Merida's first time telling Mac ILY happens. It's a whole complete story on it's own, and it just got a little off track for the story I'm trying to tell right now. 
> 
> Also there is an incredibly awkward, funny conversation between Mac and Elinor that I cut from this part. If anyone wants to read it, I might post it later.

They’re coming up on the 30-day mark until their wedding. Despite all the bumps in the road that got them to this point, she is actually, amazingly, excited. Still overwhelmed with the sheer amount of things to get done, but excited nonetheless.

The thought crosses her mind that when she originally began to consider her advisors insistent pleas to marry, she was convinced her dreams of a marriage built on love were more or less over. But yet here she was, wholly and completely in love, and gods all bless it was nothing short of a miracle. Everything has, for better or worse, worked out and she doesn’t really have a worry about the whole affair.

Until she does.

\-----

Her Ma calls her into her own chambers late one evening, and they have what is quite possibly the most horrifying, embarrassing conversation she has ever had to bear. A conversation about wedding nights and expectations that are placed on her as a woman, as a soon to be wife. “Marriage duties” her mother calls them and Merida has never in her 28 years of existing ever heard a more miserable term for sex.

She’s more or less known the rough mechanics of such things since she was a young teen. Her mother (and father for a time, gods, how she had survived that she doesn’t know) had sat her down and had a conversation very similar to the one they’re having right now. About keeping a man satisfied and, as a queen, providing the kingdom an heir.

But hearing it back then as a girl, knowing it as nothing more than an abstract concept, and hearing it now as a woman, an almost, wife with a very real person who’s to be her husband - and on the receiving end of these so called “marriage duties” - well, her wedding night is all of a sudden ten times more terrifying than she had ever thought it could be.

She realizes with a start that in all of their evenings together, she and Mac had somehow never discussed…this. Merida didn’t even know if there was anything to really discuss. Her history of physical relationships is a short one (and by short, she means non-existent), but she draws up with a sudden stop when she remembers hearing castle gossip from the maids and servants about the man who is to become her husband and his…abilities in bed.

And all of a sudden Merida is completely (but quietly) panicking, her breath coming short and rapid, her eyes comically wide with fear. Elinor sees the connection spark in her daughter’s mind, and she had worried about just this. Queen she might have once been, but Elinor has heard the same palace gossip her daughter has about Lord Macintosh. Most of the reason Elinor was even having this dreadful conversation (and it was indeed dreadful, no doubt about it) was to see if her daughter had discussed such things with her almost husband. And from the state of panic Merida was in, Elinor assumed the topic had not come up.

Merida throws herself to her mother’s feet, and Elinor is surprised to see her daughter near tears. “Ma, I have no idea what to do! I’m…I’m going to be a terrible wife when it comes to this.” Merida’s head flops into her mother’s lap, and Elinor gently stroke her daughter’s curls, muttering nonsensical words of comfort, even while trying to keep from laughing at Merida dramatics.

“Look at me, my darling girl,” Elinor’s voice is quiet but firm and Merida looks up with dread filled eyes. “Now I did not bring this up just to send ye into a tailspin, alright?” Merida nods at her mother’s words, and Elinor continues. “You and I both know that Macintosh has a…reputation, we might say.” Merida actually snorts at that, because it’s a gross understatement, but her mother fixes her with a glare and she keeps quiet.

Elinor meets Merida’s eyes as she firmly says, “Ye need to talk with him about this. I can see yer worried about it, and if ye don’ ask ye will keep worrying.” Merida starts to object as Elinor continues loudly, “He loves you, Mer. The entire kingdom can see it, and with the way he looks at you like ye hung the stars, I doubt the man could ever be disappointed in anything ye do. But I know yer not goin’ to take my word for it. Talk to him. And soon.”

Merida recognizes a dismissal when she hears it, and so she rises, presses a kiss to her Ma’s cheek and practically runs out the door.

\-----

Her face is red as a tomato, mind spilling thoughts at a rapid fire pace. She practically sprints back to her room, body on auto pilot as she weaves through the corridors. And unfortunately her body running on auto pilot seems to miss the rather large person standing in the middle of the hall, and she smashes into someone’s back with a resounding thud that sends her reeling backwards.

It turns out to be an unlucky Lord MacGuffin, chatting with Lord Dingwall and Lord Macintosh. Her face turns an astounding shade of red as she mumbles an apology to Guff before trying to skirt around the three men.

Merida curses her luck when Mac grabs her wrist, pulling her down the hall a ways. “What’s the matter with you, love? Ye look like you’ve just finished a rousing fight with a bear.” She snorts a laugh, because that is probably the nicest description of her worn-ragged appearance he could have come up with.

“Fine, Mac. Really. Just came from an…interesting….conversation with Ma.” He takes a step closer and she automatically draws away, and the flash of hurt and confusion across his face is brief, but there.

“Must have been one hell of a conversation if ye won’t touch me and can’t look me in the eye.” Her eyes snap to his at the blatant call out of her behavior and she gaps at him, looking for all the world like a gaping fish.

“Ye want to try again and this time tell me what’s really the matter?” His tone is firm, and she suddenly feels like scuffing her feet on the flagstone tile like she did when she was a little girl.

“Aye, all right. I did have a talk with my mother. But we aren’t gonna discuss such things in the middle of the hall.” She jerks her head toward her room and Mac follows behind, close enough so she can feel his presence but never touching. They enter her room, and Mac bolts the door behind them, as Merida promptly falls face first into her comforter. He furrows his brows in confusion and sits himself on the end of the large bed and waits.

\-----

He sighs, grabs a pillow off the chest near the foot of the bed, and throws it at Merida’s head after about fifteen minutes of waiting for her to say something. She turns her head to give him a withering glare, and he just smiles brightly.

“Mer, we could be here all night staring at each other if ye don’ talk to me.” She huffs a breath out and finally sits up (he’s startled to see what looks like tears in her eyes, but he can’t be sure). Merida scoots to the top of the bed, pulls her knees tight up to her chest, and wraps her arms tightly around the pillow he had thrown at her.

Macintosh is utterly confused by her mannerisms. “What in the world did yer Ma say to ye to turn ye into a skittish horse?” Merida buries her face in the pillow and mutters something that he can’t make head or tails of. “What was that, Mer? I can’t hear a word yer saying.”

“Marriage duties, all right? That’s what she was talkin’ to me about.” Her face is taking on the shade of her hair, and Mac is puzzled.

“Marriage duties? What in the hell are marriage duties?” Merida sighs and Mac thinks she’s probably wishing for a hole to fall in, because this conversation seems to be causing her actual, physical pain.

“Y'know…a woman’s duty to…please her husband. My job to give the kingdom it’s future ruler. Our wedding night.” Macintosh finally gets what Merida is on about and understands the permanent shade of red staining her face and chest. He hasn’t had such a conversation with his parents since he was a boy, he can only image the embarrassment of having to go through it as a grown adult.

“Oh. Well, I can see how that would be awkward as all hell, but I don’t see why that’s suddenly made ye as jumpy as a frog.”

Merida’s eyes squeeze shut as she tries to gather the strength to make it through this conversation without dying. She’s done too much work to make it this far and just keel over. She takes a deep breath in, eyes focused on a spot on the comforter in front of her foot before continuing.

“My mother also pointed, not that I hadn’t already known this, that you…have a bit of a, um, reputation, when it comes to such things. Or, more correctly, you have experience with this and I, I, um, I don’” She glances at Mac’s face to see him opening gaping at her, as realization sweeps over him, and Merida suddenly rethinks that keeling over and dying business.

He moves to sit right in front of her, and Merida is trapped between him and the headboard with nowhere to run. He grabs her chin, forcing her eyes to his, face concerned, “Merida, are ye worried about our wedding night?”

She closes her eyes quickly to keep tears from falling down her face, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, because damn it this is not how she wanted this conversation to go.

She thinks it’s not so much she’s worried about the act itself, everyone tells her your body just knows what to do. No, what she’s worried about is the expectation. Whether Merida is willing to admit it or not, Mac has experience with this. He knows all of these things and she is hopelessly, terribly, inexperienced. She had barely even kissed anyone before him and if that doesn’t speak of how dismal her situation really is, nothing will.

She doesn’t want to disappoint him.

Macintosh is pulling her into the circle of his arms before she realizes what’s happened.

She realizes she’s crying only about half a second after realizing she had vocalized her entire inner monologue about not wanting to disappoint Mac. Merida feels utterly ridiculous, and more than a little pathetic.

Macintosh, meanwhile, is wondering what he can possibly say to his queen, his soon to be wife, to make her feel better.

“Merida, you know I love you.” He starts simple, because he had a feeling they’re in for quite the conversation. She pulls out of his embrace, wiping her face, before she nods.

“Why didn’ ye come to me before now? We could have talked about this sooner?”

Merida gives him a wry grin, small, but there. “Honestly? I didn’ even think about it until Ma made the heavy hint and I connected the dots.”

He grins back at her. “Yer Ma is a piece of work.” And Merida can’t help but agree.

Macintosh rearranged himself on the bed so he’s sitting next to Merida against the headboard. He wraps a blanket around her shoulders before maneuvering her to sit across his lap. He knows she likes when they sit together like this, and he’s trying his damnedest to make this conversation as comfortable as possible.

“Mer, I could sit here and tell ye about every single woman I’ve been with, right down the list - and yes, there is somewhat of a list I’m not proud to admit. If that’s what ye want to hear say the word,” her eyes sting as she stares at him, words failing to come. “Somehow I don’ think that’s goin’ to make ye feel better.”

She shakes her head no, because he’s right, it probably won’t make her feel any better. And he smiles, presses a kiss to her temple.

“I won’t apologize for what happened before ye, Mer.” His voice is quiet and she automatically looks at his, brow drawn low across her eyes.

“I would never expect ye to, Mac.”

“Then ye have to tell me what’s the matter, because I want to make ye feel better but I’m not even quite sure what’s wrong.”

She thinks for a long moment before starting. “I suppose what I’m worried about is, like I said, disappointing you. Or, or layin’ with ye and havin’ to figure out if yer comparing me to others.” Merida feels petty with her admission; she’s never been the jealous sort, never been self-conscious about how she stacks up. But this….for some reason this hits a little closer to home than she’d like.

“Merida, can I tell ye the one reason I will never compare ye to those other women? The one reason that ye will never disappoint me?” She nods eagerly, and he presses his lips to hers before he breathes, “because I love you.” Merida draws back and she’s going to say something but it dies on her lips.

“I have never, ever loved a woman I’ve slept with. You, my dear queen, will be the first.” She’s vaguely caught off guard by his answer and stares at him, even as he smiles and his cheeks turn just the lightest shade of pink.

“I’m nervous too, Mer, though not for the same reasons you are. I’m…yer still a virgin, aye?” She nods, confused as to what he could possibly be nervous about.

“Just because I know ye don’ have anyone to compare me to, doesn’t mean I’m not nervous. I’m scared I might hurt you, I’m nervous because I’m your first, and I want it to be something ye can look back on with happiness.”

She nods, eyes locked with his. “Ma says ye always remember yer first,” and he pulls her into his shoulder before pressing kisses into her hair.

“Aye, yer Ma’s right. Ye may be nervous, my love, but ye can know I’ll be the same.”

He can see she’s starting to feel a bit better, her shoulders aren’t as tight and her face is significantly less tomato-like. 

The sit in a silence that isn’t necessarily comfortable, but lost in thought, neither really seem to mind. Merida had expected this conversation to happen in multiple different ways – from being laughed at for her ridiculous dramatization of the whole scenario to cold indifference. She had not been prepared for understanding and calm, soothing words, and it is for nearly the hundredth time in the past few months that Merida realizes she made the right decision, marrying Mac, learning to love him.

She ends up drifting off to sleep against Macintosh’s shoulder, she always seems to be so damn tired, and when she wakes up he’s gone and she’s tucked under a blanket, fire burning low in the hearth. Getting out of bed is nothing short of an act of sheer will-power, but her stomach growls low and she realizes that somehow she missed breakfast and dinner. So she heaves out of bed, wandering slowly around her room, bare feet tickled by the cool tile. There’s a letter in the center of her desk that certainly hadn’t been there before she had fallen asleep. She grabs the letter and throws herself inelegantly into her couch as she recognizes Mac’s loopy, scrawling handwriting filling the page.

_My Dear Queen,_

_You fell asleep before we could finish our conversation, and I did not have the heart to wake you._

_My Merida, you need not be afraid of me when it comes to this. I promise that when the time comes, I will do everything in my power to make you as comfortable as possible, to make sure you know just how much it is I love you._

_It is completely up to you to decide when this will happen. If you decide you are ready in the next few days, weeks, or even years, I will wait as long as it takes. Nothing is quite so important to me as making sure you know that I would wait an eternity to be allowed a place in your bed. I have wanted you for a lifetime, it seems. You are singularly the most beautiful woman in the world, whether you believe it or no, and everything about you charms me._

_Marrying you is a dream come true, something I scarcely allowed myself to believe possible, especially given our history. But being allowed the privilege of making love to you is beyond my wildest imaginings._

_I am humbled to stand at your side, my Queen._

_Yours in all things,_

_Cothric Macintosh_

The letter slips gracefully from her fingers, drifting to the ground in slow waves. Merida leans back into the couch cushions, fingers playing absently with a strand of hair, and she feels her stomach tighten into knots at his words. Something about them is so overwhelmingly honest, so devastatingly intense that her toes curl and she can feel red bloom on her cheeks. She feels flustered, emotions tripping over themselves one after another – relief, breath-catching desire, gratitude, understanding, and love, love,  _love._

She knows that Mac would wait forever for her, if she decided. She knows he would travel to the far reaches of the heavens if she so desired it. He would move mountains to get whatever she wanted. So it is startling when she realizes that what she really, truly wants is  _him_. Nothing more and nothing less.

She takes a steadying breath, puts on her shoes and brushes the invisible wrinkles out of her gown.

Now she just has to find him and tell him that.

\-----

Merida doesn’t find him that night, despite her very best efforts.

Her sleep is subpar at best, as she lays in the giant expanse of her bed, with a desperate, clinging _want_  that hangs around her like a woolen cape.

She doesn’t find him that next morning, either.

Or that afternoon.

She’s getting more and more frustrated because damn it the castle is only so big, there are only so many places Mac can hide from her.

It’s a bit ridiculous, she realizes, the single-minded vehemence with which she goes about looking for Macintosh. Less than 48 hours previously she had been quite terrified about the notion of having him in her bed. But suddenly it’s like a flip has switched and all at once someone has lit a fire in her veins that leaves her uncomfortably warm and flushed all over, wanting every single moment. All she wants is him and his body against hers.

Merida knows that he is the cause of the smoldering heat, just as much as he’s the solution.

Every passing hour becomes a vicious battle of self-control to not spontaneously combust into flames and let herself burn. There’s a coil in her stomach that is continuously tightening, winding her up until the point where she thinks if someone touches her, hell if they look at her the wrong way, she will probably fall apart. It is completely and totally uncomfortable, and for the first time in her life, Merida understands the pure, untainted idea of desire.

She winds up sprinting out of a council meeting because one of her advisors mentions that she looks flushed, and asks if she is feeling well. Suddenly everything is spinning and she feels a scream pulling at her throat because she is about to explode in a fit of sexual longing unless she finds Mac, but she knows that is hardly the appropriate thing to say in such a situation. She rises on shaking legs, muttering something about not feeling quite like herself, and pushes away from the table. Merida glances at her mother, and Elinor sees the mute longing, the pleading in her daughter’s eyes to understand. And she does. She smiles at Merida, give a small jerk of her head towards the door, and Merida is out of the meeting chamber without another word.

Merida ends up at the archery range, praying to whatever god would listen for the monotony of shooting to ease some of the burning. And to her surprise it sort of works. Her clothes still feel too constricting against her warm body, and her hands are definitely shaking, but slowly with each pull and release of her bow, some of the tension dissipates from her body.

She notches another arrow, steadies her hand, and takes her aim.  

Sucks in a deep, cleansing breath.

And then she feels his breath, warm on her neck.

_(The damn arrow misses the target by a good three feet.)_

She’s frozen where she is, heart hammering at a mad pace as her vision dances. Mac’s hands are resting high on her thighs. His thumb rubs small, deep circles into the soft silk of her gown, and each stroke pulls her tighter and tighter, until she’s ready to snap in half. His body is warm and strong at her back. One hand brushes her curls away from her shoulder, while the other keeps rubbing those mind-numbing circles into her thigh, and she lets out a shaky, uncontrolled breath.

He presses a kiss to the spot just below her ear, soft and delicate and just barely there, and she drops her bow to the ground with a clatter.

Her head drops to the side, and it’s starting to get difficult to take a breath.

“Yer Ma said ye needed me for somethin’, my Queen,” His voice is deep, almost a growl in her ear, and the sound sends a shot of liquid hot want careening through her body.

Merida turns slowly on trembling legs. Mac’s arms come firm around her waist and she thanks her lucky stars because she’s not sure how much longer her legs are going to keep working. Her breathing is labored, chest rising and falling in heavy pants, and she’s shocked to find that he seems to be right there with her. She looks into his eyes and sees a burning there that matches the heat simmering in her blood.

For a long, terrible second Merida is almost frightened of the unrestrained, unchecked lust that she sees in him; his body is tense, she can see his muscles quivering with exertion to not move, to stay still until she says something. Mac is staring a hole right through her, and it is almost more than she can bare.

He pulls her in, kisses her in a way that she can feel all the way down to her toes. It’s long and deep and Merida can feel that string tighten in her body, ready to snap.  
She leans away, and it’s one of the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. “Mac, I want you…” her voice is hoarse, a quiet whisper into the space between them, and his head falls to her shoulder as she hears the low groan that’s drawn from his mouth.

He doesn’t move, and for about half a second she’s afraid that he’s about to tell her no. But she feels him let out a shaky, controlled breath and pull back to look at her, a dark and wicked glint reflecting in his own eye. “Then you can have me, my Queen.”

The fire comes back in a raging inferno, and she pulls him out of the archery field.

\-----

They wind up at her room in what is probably record time, both breathing hard. They get in the door and Merida spins him around and slams his body into the closed door, hearing his head thump loudly against the wood. He bolts the door as she rises up on tip toes to press a harsh kiss to his lips, one hand carding through his hair, the other wound tight into his plaid.

He pulls at her hips until they’re flush with his own, and the matching groans they both utter at the contact makes him dizzy. He spins them around, her back hits the door hard and Merida relishes the bloom of pain as Mac places open mouthed kisses on the column of her neck before biting hard at her pulse point. She gasps, head lolling to the side, as he pulls at her waist, encouraging to arch up into his body.

The contact, the pressure, the heat is entirely too much for her to take.

Merida pushes him backward so she can step away from the door, desperate for a momentary reprieve from feeling like she’s about to explode. He willingly takes a step away and she attempts to get around him, but he catches her waist before she can get too far. Her hands cling to his shoulders as his hands wander her body; one of his hands cups her breast and she nearly melts into the floor. His mouth is back at her neck (he particularly loves the sound he can get her to make when he sucks at the junction of her shoulder and neck, adding just a bit of pressure with his teeth) and she drops her head to the side granting him better access to the pale skin.

Macintosh can feel, pin-point with exact clarity, the moment she starts thinking too hard. Merida freezes in his arms and he can just tell she’s about to panic. He wraps her in his arms, brushes soft kisses against her cheek before breathing softly, “Relax, Mer. Yer doin’ just fine. Just breath.”

He can feel her nod vigorously against his chest. “I know. I know. I just…I don’t want to mess up.”

Mac laughs and pulls back far enough to press a kiss to her nose. “Silly girl, ye canno mess up. Just do what comes naturally. Yer body will know what’s right.” She sucks in a deep breath before smiling at him, and he kisses her deeply. “Say the word and we’ll stop Mer. I promise.”

The reality of the situation, of what she’s about to do, finally sinks in. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t just the bit nervous.

“Mac?” She asks between urgent kisses, and he hums against her lips. “Are ye scared?” The words come out as a hoarse whisper and he pulls back to look her dead in the eye.

“Terrified, my Queen,” They both crash into each other with an intensity that is almost overwhelming, and his tongue sweeps into her mouth to taste her over and over again. He pulls away, only to spin her around as his hands find the laces of her gown. He slowly starts working them undone, and he can feel her shake under his touch.

“Don’t worry, Mer. We’ll go slow.” His voice is heavy in her ear, and she can feel his lips ghosting over the sensitive spot below her earlobe, can feel the goosebumps rising in the wake of his warm breath. She let’s out a yelp when one of his hands firmly circles her waist and yanks her back into his body so hard that her head thumps his chest, and his voice is dark as his breath dances along her ear, “Besides, I’ll no’ be takin’ ye until yer beggin’ for it.”

The groan that slips out of her mouth is positively sinful, and the sound shoots straight to his groin. She can feel the grumble in his chest reverberate through her body, can still hear the words ringing in her head and she is practically vibrating with want.

Mac makes quick work of the laces on her gown after that, pulling the fabric off her body in one go. She turns to face him in just her flimsy shift that does absolutely nothing to hide her form and her stockings. He can see her start to fidget under his appreciative gaze, and he pulls her into his body, kissing her deeply until she has to break away for air.

He’s undeterred, though, nipping his way down her neck once more before peppering her chest with soft, lingering kisses. Instead of moving farther down her chest to the area that Merida so desperately wants him to pay attention to, he drops to his knees.

Mac reaches for the edge of her stockings with careful hands, pulling them down slowly until she can step out of them. He rucks up the bottom of her slip until it’s resting just at her thighs, and he presses ardent kisses to the delicate, pale skin of her legs. The feeling is strange and wonderful and Merida is wondering how her lungs are still managing to pull oxygen because her entire body feels like its floating under his ministrations.

She cards her hand through the curls at the top of his head as he continues to suck and bite at pale flesh; it’s wonderful, and Merida wonders for a brief moment if Mac would be willing to go down on his knees for her for…slightly different reasons. The thought is enough to pull her out of whatever passive mode she’s in, and Merida suddenly, forcefully, pulls him up to his feet by his curls before pressing open mouthed kisses along his neck. He grumbles, complaining that he wasn’t finished with what he was doing.

“Ye can get on yer knees for me later, my lord, right now, I’ll be needin’ yer attention elsewhere.”  His eyes darken noticeably at promises of later, and he seals his mouth to hers before slowly pushing the slip off her shoulders in one fluid motion.

They both pause their hurried, frantic movement, and Mac takes a step away from her. Merida presses her eyes shut, but even so she can feel his eyes racking up and down her naked form in evident appreciation.

“Mer, open yer eyes and look at me,” his voice is deeper than normal, and the sound hits her square in the gut, igniting flames in her belly that slowly melt down.

She meets his gaze and it’s lust filled and…overwhelmed. “You are so beautiful, Merida. So, so beautiful…” his voice trails off as he kisses her gently for the span of a breath, then presses firmer into her lips as his hands come around her thighs to haul her up into his arms. Her legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he kisses her and carries her over to the bed.

They land with a thump in the oversized mattress that is crowded with blankets and pillows. They both start laughing as they throw pillow after pillow to the floor, and Merida realizes that the laughter makes this so much easier.

Mac pulls her up the bed so her head lands in a cradle of blue pillows, hair fanning out like flames dancing against the night sky. Merida is beyond words, indescribably beautiful. And Mac figures if actions speak louder than words, he has many, many ways to show her just how magnificent he thinks she is.

Starting with her chest.

Without warning, he bends his dark head to the pale flesh of her breast, and sucks a nipple into his mouth. Merida’s back nearly breaks as she arches into the unexpectedly blissful feel of his mouth warm and hard on her breast, as his teeth scrape along the sensitive flesh there. One of his hands reaches around to slip under her back, fingers dancing along her spine. The other goes to her other breast, gently working it until Merida’s soft pants and moans fill his ears. His mouth is hot and marvelous and Merida is lost to a sea of new feeling. He pulls away from her chest and the whimper she let’s out at the loss of contact is nothing short of magic.

She pulls him down into a kiss because right now, they’re in territory that is unfamiliar to her and kissing is something she knows - it’s safe - even though Mac seems to be able to play her body like a finely tuned instrument, even though she can feel love in every kiss, every caress, every embrace. He kisses her slowly, languidly, as his hand runs down her stomach, feather-light and cool against her flushed skin. He hesitates for just a moment, letting her gather her breath, before his fingers come into contact with her center; just a brief touch to get her used to the new sensation.

The look she gives him is nothing short of desperate, eyes blown wide, hand pulling at his hair, skin beat red. Her chest rises and falls with labored breathing as his hand gently wanders over the sensitive flesh of her core. Her head falls back into the pillows, her gasps and pleas picking up speed as he slowly adds pressure, fingers working more and more insistently. He watches her closely, cataloguing the delicate shifts and changes in her expression with everything he tries (he is going to learn every stroke, every kiss, every patch of sensitive skin that makes her come undone if it’s the last thing he does in this life) until finally her hands are clamoring for purchase in the sheets of the bed, and a string of curse words slips from her mouth.

Her eyes are screwed shut tight, and he can feel her body coiling tighter and tighter around his fingers as he works her harder to get her to the edge.

“Mac, gods, I….”

That’s all she can get out through panting breaths, and he presses a hard kiss to her lips, quietly murmuring, “I know, Mer, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

She gasps against his lips once, almost quiet compared to how vocal she had been, and he feels her body convulse with pleasure. He keeps working her through her high, as she tries to suck in air; there are stars dancing behind her eyes, entire galaxies trying to break out of her chest, and she floats hazily somewhere in the sky.

Merida finally cracks her eye to look at Mac, still hovering above her. One hand is cradling her head as the other ghosts along sensitive flesh, slick with her arousal.

“Are ye alright down there, love?” There’s a sharp edge to his words, and she knows he’s trying to keep himself in check for the moment. She nods, her throat dry and unable to form sounds beyond moans and his name, apparently.

Mac gives her a dark grin, and suddenly pulls his hand from her aching flesh, drawing a whimper from her chest, and sucks a slick finger into his mouth. The sight nearly causes Merida to come undone again, right in that moment, and he watches as her eyes flutter shut in ecstasy.

“I want to do somethin’, but…do ye trust me?” He asks, drawing her our of her cloudy mind. She meets his eye and nods, because she trusts this man with her mind, her body, her entire life. He smirks at her, presses a kiss to her mouth before moving himself down her body.

“Ye remember how I said I’d no take ye until ye were begging?” She nods slowly, eyes never leaving his, as he blows gently on the tender, worked flesh of her core, “Well let’s see where this get us, aye?” He winks at her, before he gently sucks her clit into his mouth and her body damn near flies off the bed. He holds her hips firm to the mattress as his tongue works her center over and over until she’s babbling incoherently, curses mingled with his name and pleas for things she doesn’t even understand. One hand fists in the pillow at her side, the other firmly wound through Mac’s dark curls.

“Gods, Mac, please…please…” she can’t seem to get more out of her throat, even though she wants to tell him to stop teasing, to just get on with it already. He seems to sense her frustration with herself and pulls away from his task, pressing one kiss to her swollen clit before leaning up to kiss her lips. She can taste her arousal on his mouth and it’s one of the strangest, most erotic things she’s ever experienced…she loves it.

“What do ye need, my Queen?” He asks her reverently as he breaks this kiss. Thinking is a bit like swimming through a lake of mud, and Merida can barely remember her own name, let alone how to put together a coherent sentence. She’s red from her head to toes, and it feels like her body is floating anchorless in a turbulent sea.

Instead of words, her hands find the clasp of his belt, and she flicks it open with only minor difficulty as he bites a mark into her neck that has her seeing stars. She knows the evidence will be there tomorrow, and while she isn’t necessarily thrilled at the knowing glances she’ll receive from her mother, being able to see a physical reminder of tonight leaves her giddy. She throws the heavy belt to the floor, and it hits the wood with a loud clunk in the otherwise silent room. Merida reaches to drag his mouth to hers and kisses him, hard and heavy, as she pulls at the weighty material of his kilt and finally pulls the fabric loose from his body.

Merida pushes him back so she can actually look at him, and he seems to figure out what she wants as he sits back on heels, meeting her gaze full on as her mouth drops opens in obvious appreciation. Her mouth dries and suddenly it’s like she’s been in the desert for months without a thing to drink. Merida sits up slightly, reaching a shaking hand out to brush against his bare chest. She can feel his heart beat racing, and is emboldened enough to run a steady hand down his abdomen, before taking him firmly in hand.

Merida watches with eager eyes as this time Mac’s the one struggling for breath, eyes firmly shut. Her hand lightly dances over his shaft, and on one particular pass where she presses just the bit harder, well, it tears a growl from his chest the likes of which she’s never heard, and suddenly he’s bearing her back into the bed, both of her hands pinned above her head by his own as he kisses her senseless (not that she has many senses left at this point), tongue sweeping through her mouth, teeth biting at her lips, and finally grinding his hips down into hers, pulling a delicious moan from her mouth.

“Need…you…Mac, please…” she realizes she’s begging only after the words have fallen like a helpless prayer from her lips, and damn him, the smug bastard pulls away from kissing her and has a cocky grin plastered onto his face. He moves his body to settle over hers properly, coming to rest between her spread thighs that part just the bit more to accommodate him.

“Please what, Mer? Ye need to say it,” his grin is dangerously wide and if she weren’t so desperate for the feel of his flesh against hers, she would walk away right now. But she isdesperate and so she hears the words fall from her lips without further prompting.

“Damn it, Mac. Ye can either take me right now or so help me…” he silences her with a breathy kiss, and she can feel her heart stutter as he gently nudges at her entrance.  
He meets her eye, all joking gone, “Yer sure about this Mer?” She nods once, presses a kiss just above his heart, and he smiles.

“I love you, my Queen.”

“I love you, too.”

With a soft kiss and a firm, slow drag of his hips, he seats himself inside her, and the moan that leaves his chest matches the airy gasp that leaves hers. He pauses for a moment, watching the changes of expression ripple across her face.

“Are ye ok, Mer? Talk to me…”

Merida feels the sharp prick of pain, but that’s gone almost before she can acknowledge it as such. Then it’s just the uncomfortable feeling of being stretched in a way she never knew possible. It’s hard to breathe with a weight on her chest and fire licking at her skin, but she tries her best.

“Just…give me a mo’.” He nods and she breathes through the edges of discomfort. She twists her hips just a bit, trying to adjust, and he groans in appreciation. Merida finally nods, and slowly, so slowly, he eases out of her and then back in. And then again. And again. And ever so surely he manages to pick up a tempo that has her completely forgetting about any temporary pain and instead grasping at his shoulders desperately as light whimpers work through her chest.

It’s hot, this thing between them. What started as a soft burning in her veins, moving low into her belly suddenly ignites her into flames, and she feels him catch fire as well. They’re desperately clinging to each other, she fists a hand in his curls, giving a wicked yank that pulls a moan from his chest. He retaliates by grabbing her knee, hitching it up on his hip so he can reach farther into her on each pull, to the point that constellations dance behind her eyelids on every thrust and drag of his body against hers. She’s wound tight, but she can tell he is too.

When they both finally shatter, it’s raining stardust to the symphony of their labored breathing.

\-----

Merida finally comes back down from wherever she’s been floating some time later, though she couldn’t say when. She jerks up the at feel of something brushing her thighs, only to have Mac push her back into the bed.

“Shh, yer fine, Mer. Just cleaning you up. Close yer eyes and rest.” His voice is soothing, and she lays back to breathe, relishing the ache she feels all the way down to her bones, the feeling of being used in such a beautiful, pleasant way. She cracks an eye at him, only to see his gaze firmly fixed on her. He smiles, bright and warm and she feels a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of her own mouth.

He stands, moving to the side of the bed as he mumbles, “Arms around my neck, Mer.” She does as she’s told, lacing her arms around his shoulders as he scoops her up with one arm, pulls back the sheets and deposits her back into the bed. Merida snuggles into her blankets, and watches with confused eyes as he shuffles around her room, picking up his belt and shoes kilt as if he’s about to leave.

“And where do ye think yer goin’, Lord Macintosh?” Her voice is hoarse and he can hear an edge of worry layering in the cracks.

“Ye don’ need anyone catchin’ a man sneaking out of yer room in the early light of morn, Mer. It’ll ruin you.”

She gives him an unladylike snort and grabs his hand, jerking him back to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Aye, except the man sneakin’ out is the man I’m supposed to marry in nigh three weeks. And as for my reputation, well ye’ve already taken my virginity I’m not sure there’s much more that matters. Besides to hell with what anyone thinks, I want ye in my bed tonight, consequences be damned.”

Macintosh is thoroughly struck by the hard, authoritative edge in her voice (he vaguely recognizes the tone as her ‘Queen Voice’ - the one she uses when she knows what she wants and will not yield for all the world). But he’s helpless to deny her anything she wants anyway, so he sighs, kisses her forehead and drops his shoes to the floor with a loud clunk. Merida slides over in the large bed, pulling back the covers so he can crawl in next to her.

“Yer impossible, Mer.” Her laugh is tired as she buries herself into his arms.

“Oh, aye, I know. Half the reason ye love me though.” He hums his agreement, and she feels it rumble his chest. Her head rests just below his heart, and she can hear the steady, soothing thump pulling her to sleep. He strokes the curls out of her face, fingers brushing against her cheekbones softly.

“Do ye have any regrets, Merida?” His voice is so quiet she damn near misses it, tired as she is. It’s slow going to get thoughts to process, even slower to form a response.

“About tonight? No. About marryin’ you? Never…” she trails off, and he can sense there is more to her thoughts than she’s letting on.

“But…?”

She sighs, turns in his arms just enough so she can reach up and brush a strand of hair out of his eyes, before carding her fingers through the curls.

“When I was little, a young girl, I always dreamed of this small, intimate wedding, ye know? Out in the gardens, maybe, with just my family and close friends. I told Ma once, and she near broke my little eight year old hear when she informed me, as a queen, I was expected to have this big fancy thing in front of everyone.” She breaks off, a lump in her throat as she remembers the disappointment she felt back then at her Ma’s words.

“I just wanted a day, one day, where it wasn’t about me being Queen. But…just about me. And you, now, obviously.” Her smile is dazzling as she meets his eye, and he’s taken aback by her in this moment. Her heart is so big, so terribly brave, and she’s made so many sacrifices, personally, in the name of her kingdom and being Queen. It blows him away how one body can hold so much love.

He presses a soft kiss to her lips before pulling her back into his chest. “I’m sorry it happened this way, love. If I could change it, ye know I would.” Mac can feel her smile against the warm skin of his throat.

“I know ye would, Mac. It means the world to me. But I’m not sorry about us, not sorry at all. I love you.”

“And I you, my Queen. Sleep now.” He can hear her breathing even out as she finally succumbs to the exhaustion he knows she feels. And he slips into warm dreams not long after.

\------

Merida wakes to chirping birds outside her window and wants to throw a rock at them. She’s tired, her body’s sore, and all she wants is a bath and to sleep for about twelve hours.

It takes her a moment to remember just why her body hurts in such an unusual way, and the previous night comes back in startling clarity. It’s then that she realizes while she fell asleep with Mac’s body curled next to her own, the bed is decidedly cool and she’s by herself.

She gets up and throws a dressing gown on before padding to the window, looking out and seeing the blue sky of a warm summer day. Merida catches a glance at her reflection is her long mirror and chokes on a gasp. Her neck and shoulders have no less than three bright red love bites, and, as she examines the rest of her body, her thighs are littered with bite marks too, as well as a decidedly hand shaped bruise blooming on her hips.

She is going to catch hell from her mother today.

Merida goes to call for one of her ladies’ maids to see if she can’t possibly get a hot bath before she has to go face her Ma’s withering, knowing glances. And that’s when she notices two roses, a white and a red, twined together at their stems, laying on her desk. There’s a hastily scribbled note underneath in what she knows is Mac’s handwriting. All it says is, ‘Unity…You and me, forever. I love you, my Queen. Never forget that.’

Her heart lifts, and a small smile grows on her face. This man is far too good to her, she decides. She pulls out a small vase from one of the drawers of her desk, places the blooms on the corner of her dresser and with a light heart, starts her day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well friends, we've reached the end of this little tale. I dearly hope you've enjoyed reading it. There might be more to add to this little verse at some point.

Merida doesn’t see hide nor hair of Macintosh for nearly three days after their late night encounter, which is frustrating in more ways than one if she’s being honest. She asks after his whereabouts and is always given some incredibly vague answer, and after a day and a half, she gives up looking. When he wants to appear, he will.

And he does. She’s sitting in the dining hall, reading through petitions for court that afternoon eating a bowl of soup, and the room is blessedly silent. She likes to sneak in to eat after food is normally served to have just a few moments of peace to herself. The staff obliges her whim and always has a spare plate or bowl saved.

Merida’s hair is braided and up to keep off her back in the stifling warmth of high summer, and Mac comes up behind her, placing a feather light kiss on her neck. She twirls around to see him with a beaming smile, and her irritation at his disappearance melts away into the heat of the day. He sits next to her on the long bench, pressing a firm kiss to her mouth before leaning back against the table. His grin is eager and his whole body is exuding excitement; he looks a bit like a little kid on their birthday before receiving sweets and gifts. She just raises an eyebrow and gives him a small quirk of her mouth.

“Ye look like a five-year-old with that silly grin, Lord Macintosh.” She turns her attention back to her soup and the letter in hand as he speaks.

“Aye, well, I’m a bit excited, I’ll admit. I have a surprise for ye.” He’s practically bouncing now, and she drops her spoonful of soup onto the table with a clatter at his words. She mops at the spill with the edge of her napkin before fixing him with a glare.

“A surprise ye say?” His smile turns sheepish and he nods, grabbing the napkin out of her hand and throwing it onto the table before taking both her hands in his.

“Remember the conversation we had a few nights ago? About wantin’ us to get married in private?” Merida nods slowly, an edge of understanding trickling into her mind. 

Macintosh takes a breath, “On a scale of one to ten…how serious were ye?”

Merida suddenly finds it incredibly hard to breath.

“Twelve.” Her voice is quiet and breathy as she looks at him with wide eyes. He pulls her in to kiss her - long and deep and something that makes her toes curl in her slippers.

When Mac breaks away, he presses soft kisses to her cheek, before breathing into her ear, “Good, because we’re gettin’ married this afternoon.” Merida nearly falls backwards off her seat in her haste to stand, only saved from an unfortunate encounter with the floor by Mac’s hands at her waist. They both finally make it to upright standing positions and Merida throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder, allowing herself a minute to gather her feelings.

“Really, Mac? Are ye serious?” His face is warm and his eyes are shining as he presses a kiss to her temple.

“Course I am, love. This is what ye wanted and I can’t say I find a fault with it. We’ll still go through with all the pomp and circumstance of the formal wedding, but today? This is for you and me.”

The smile that Merida gives him could light the castle for months, and all at once the entire three days he has spent trying to get this mess together becomes utterly worth it to see her shine.

“Who knows about all of this?” She asks, breathless and a bit disoriented by the sudden swarm of emotion overtaking her body. Mac grabs up the letters she had been reading with one hand, and grabs her hand with the other, lacing their fingers together as he pulls her out of the dining room.

“Yer Ma, firstly. I went to her that next morning and asked if we could get married like this, and she hugged me so tight I though my back was gonna break clean in half.” Hs chuckles at the memory, and glances over to see Merida’s wide-eyed, dazed grin looking back at him.

“Once she said yes and agreed to help, she drafted yer brothers, and then Wee and Guff got brought into the mix. Besides them, the priest, a few servants, and three council members are the only ones who know.” He’s beaming with pride at having managed to successfully keep this whole plan from not only Merida, but the majority of the castle.

She had said she wanted small and intimate, and it seems that’s what she’s going to get. Her heart nearly bursts in gratitude.

They reach her bed chambers, and Elinor is standing outside Merida’s door, her smile stretching across her elegant features. “So, are ye ready to get married, my darling girl?” Elinor’s eyes are bright with unshed tears, and Merida pulls her hand out of Mac’s to hug her Ma tight, tears threatening to overwhelm her own eyes.

The Queen Mother leads her daughter into her room, and Merida is surprised to see two of her ladies maids standing in the center of the room smiling at her. She looks at her mother in confusion and Elinor simply says, “We have to get ye ready for the ceremony.”

The two maids and Elinor begin chatting quietly about what needs to get done in the next hour or so, and Merida turns back to Macintosh.

“We’re really doing this?” Her voice is small and eager, and he laughs.

“Yes, love. We are really, truly doin’ this. No backin’ out on me now, I’m afraid.” He winks at her and she gives him a shove for his insolence. “I have to go finish a few things and change myself. Just think, you’ll be of Clan Macintosh in a few hours.” She grimaces at that and he laughs, kissing her forehead before Elinor promptly shoos him out of the room.

Her mother and maids quickly get to work, sticking her into a warm bath and scrubbing every inch of her skin until it practically glows. Her Ma brushes out her long curls, and she gets them to fall perfectly, before pining them into a loose bun.

A few minutes later, one of the maids comes in from the servant’s hall carrying a large package that Merida guesses has to be her dress. She’s right - and when Elinor pulls the garment out of the bag Merida nearly collapses. It’s gorgeous and everything she had ever imagined. Light green silk with a chiffon overlay and short cuff sleeves, it’s beautifully embroidered with small flowers and feels like stepping into a cloud as the two maids slip it over her head and begin lacing the back. It’s airy and stunningly perfect and Merida wonders out loud who bought it for her.

_(Elinor laughs at her daughter’s wonder struck expression when she tells him that The Lord Macintosh un-pocketed the funds himself.)_

The whole thing feels like walking in a dream, Merida realizes, and before she knows it, her Ma is standing her in front of the full length mirror in the corner so she can look at herself. She can’t stop smiling at her reflection, because she feels like herself - and that’s all she had ever wanted for her wedding day. She knows that when the formal ceremony comes she has to be Queen - has to act like it, dress like it, behave in such a way that is nothing but regal. But she feels like _Merida_ staring into the mirror, and it’s breathtaking.

She’s snapped out of her mental wanderings by a knock at the door. Her Ma ushers in her three brothers and one look at their big sister leaves them speechless. They’ve all come to the conclusion that Lord Macintosh isn’t nearly as bad of a guy as they once thought - it took them a while to harbor such an opinion but they got there (or they would not have agreed to help with all of this so readily). But Merida is positively glowing radiant with happiness, the grin on her face huge; the triplets know that smile isn’t because of them, but because of the man who has gone out of his way over the last six months to give their sister everything she’s ever wanted and worshipped the ground she walked on.

Hubert and Hamish gently (or not so gently) nudge Harris, who hastily remembers the reason for them being there. He clears his throat and presents Merida with what is quite possibly the most beautiful crown of flowers she’s ever seen - woven together with delicate white rose buds, queens lace, chrysanthemum and lilac.

Merida takes the piece from Harris, hands shaking, to better admire the exquisite, intricate work. She had told Macintosh once, briefly, in passing, that when she was a little girl her dream had been to wear a crown of flowers instead of a crown of gold. And it seems he had remembered.

“Mac made that for ye, Mer.” Hubert speaks quickly, seeing tears forming in his sisters eyes.

“Aye, he spent all mornin’ frettin’ over it. Pricked his fingers at least six times on the roses!” Harris adds and that draws a watery laugh from Merida. And then there’s a heavy silence for a few moments.

“Ye look beautiful, Mer,” Hamish finally says quietly, and that is what finally makes her break down into tears. She gathers all three of her brothers up into her arms to hug them, peppering their hair with kisses (which they don’t necessarily appreciate, but tolerate because their big sister is getting married and has never looked so happy). 

Merida steps back suddenly, wiping her eyes, and Elinor takes the flower crown from her daughter, gently placing it on her head and pinning it in place. Merida turns to look at herself in the mirror once more, and the laugh that bubbles up from her throat is contagious and soon the entire room is laughing and speaking over one anotherThere’s another knock on the door, and this time Merida answers, seeing Lord MacGuffin standing there. He smiles, bows low and hands her a small bouquet that matches the crown on her head.

“Everything’s all ready, yer majesty.” Merida’s heart stutters in her chest at the realization that she’s getting married in just a few moments. Her brothers slip around her, each placing a kiss on her cheek as the pass. They wander off down the hall with Lord MacGuffin. Her mother comes up and slips an arm through hers.

“Ready?“ 

Merida closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and smiles her yes.

Elinor leads her through the castle corridors and out the back, into the very far reaches of the palace gardens. There’s a trail of flower petals leading off into the distance and Merida can see a small group of people gathered. There’s a large arch, beautifully draped with flowers and tulle and her heart picks up pace because this is actually happening.

Her Ma starts to pull her down the winding path to where everyone is beginning to sit, and Merida pulls up short. Elinor shoots her daughter a questioning look.  
“I just…want a minute to take everything in.” Elinor smiles, kisses her daughter’s forehead and heads off for her seat.

For the first time since this whirlwind afternoon began, Merida is able to stop and breath and just soak in the day. It’s beautiful, truly, blue skies and a warm summer breeze that ruffles her dress. The air is sweet smelling with all of the floral blooms and a light hint of honey. She realizes with a start that for the first time since that fateful day on a cold beachfront where she asked Mac to marry her, she is happy and she is at peace. She was told that the universe works in mysterious ways which can never truly be understood, and this moment right here assures her of that fact.

She slips off her shoes and squares her shoulders as she prepares herself for the walk of her life, when she recognizes Mac walking towards her.

He reaches where she is and for a few moments neither of them move. He is utterly entranced by her beauty, spellbound in the best way possible.

“My Queen, you are stunning,” his voice comes out breathless and awe struck, and Merida feels tears spring to her eyes again at the tenderness of his words. He bows low, presses a gentle kiss to one of her hands, and she meets his warm gaze head on.

“I thought ye weren’ supposed to see me ‘till the end of the aisle, Lord Macintosh,” she supplies with a tone that was supposed to come off as flirty but somehow sounds heavy and overemotional to her own ears. Merida supposes if there is any day she is allowed to be overemotional, today is probably it.

“Aye probably not, but I wasna about to let ye make this walk by yourself. I promised I would always be at yer side, and this is no different.” A tear or two slips down her face at the implication, that he will walk at her side forever from this moment forward, and he smiles as he brushes the tears away with gentle hands.

He tucks her hand around his arm, gives her a long, lingering glance filled with wonder and love and smiles. “Ready?” she gently bumps his shoulder with her own and he chuckles.

“Absolutely.”

\-----

The wedding is beautiful, though later Merida would be hard pressed to remember the details of the afternoon as everything is a bit of a surreal blur. She has to admit it’s a whirlwind of a day.

But there are certain things she remembers with stunning, vivid memory.

She remembers the swell of nerves in her stomach as she walks arm in arm with Mac to where the priest is standing.

She remembers the soft sound of some sort of string instrument playing gently in the background.

She remembers the warmth of Mac’s hands in her own, strong and secure and shaking just the slightest. It’s one of the few signs of nerves he shows through the entire thing.

She remembers looking into his eyes and being blown away by the pure, magical love that shines there. It’s a moment that steals her breath, and she’s suddenly struck dizzy by the entire event, truly realizing that he will do anything within his power to make her happy. She does not know what she did in life to deserve the likes of him, but by the gods she is so, _so_ blessed.

She remembers her heart practically leaping into her throat as the priest pronounces them married, tells Mac that he may kiss his bride (by the gods, she is a bride in this moment; and she feels every inch of it). He takes her face between his hands and kisses her with a fierceness that boils her blood, and she clings to his waist, helpless to do anything but try and receive his kisses with some semblance of dignity. When they finally part, breathing wild and uncontrolled, their matching smiles are brighter than the sun.

Her Ma cries. She’s pretty sure her brothers cry. Hell, even Lord Dingwall takes a long, shuddering inhale, and Merida is sure his eyes are bright (both she and Mac will take great enjoyment teasing him later). 

But she doesn’t have time to say anything to anyone, as Mac pulls her away somewhere. She’s too overwhelmed, too out of touch with reality at the moment to even think to question where he’s taking her until they wind up at…the stables?

Finally able to think with some clarity, she digs her heels into the ground and pulls up short, damn near pulling Mac’s arm out its socket. 

“Where are ye taking me, Mac?” He hasn’t stopped smiling since breaking their kiss, and he steps into her space; her nose fills with the scent of leather and floral blossoms and the oils he puts in his hair every morning. Macintosh wraps his arms firmly around her waist before brushing his lips against hers, soft and brief, but enough to start butterflies in her stomach.

“We are goin’ away for a few days, my darlin’ wife. I would prefer to steal ye away for weeks if I could, but I know ye would never agree to such a lengthy time.” His smile is huge, as if he thinks he’s the greatest, cleverest person in the world (she would certainly not disagree in this moment, but would never tell him such. His head is far too inflated as it is). Merida’s heart thumps hard against her breastbone at being called ‘wife’ and suddenly everything becomes crystal clear.

“Oh my…I’m a wife now,” the words slip out of her mouth, quiet and awe-filled, and Mac laughs, pressing a kiss to her bright curls.

“Aye, ye are a wife. My wife.” The possessive edge to his voice burns something in her chest, and she simply can’t resist locking her hands round his neck and pulling him into an enthusiastic kiss that leaves them both breathless. When she breaks off, taking his hand in her own and threading their fingers together as the resume there walk to the stables, Merida feels practically effervescent in her lightness. She does not remember the last time she felt so…free. There’s a smile that pulls at her mouth and a constant bubble of laughter threatening to escape from her chest.

“Where are we goin’ then, husband, since ye seem to have everything planned out so well.” She glances over and him, soft and sweet, and his wonderstruck expression, full of joy, is one she will keep firm in her memory for many, many years.

“That is for me to know, and you to find out. It’s a surprise.” Merida feels an edge of unease rise up, but Mac stops and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Calm yerself, Mer, everything is takin’ care of. Between yer Ma, yer brothers, Wee and Guff everything will be fine here. I had one of yer ladies pack some things for ye a few days ago, and it’s already at our destination, and we are only goin’ a few hours away in case anythin’ happens.” The reach the stables and Merida finds their mounts already saddled and waiting for them. She can feel her weariness slip away as he swings her up into his arms and seats her firmly on the back of Angus.

She laughs as if the whole thing is ridiculous (it kind of is), but she is happy so hang it all, she is going away for a few days with her husband and she will enjoy it. No worries, no distractions. They have earned it, she thinks. “Well, ye seem to have thought of everythin’, my lord, so please, lead the way,” She reaches down from where she’s perched on the back of Angus to run a gentle hand through Mac’s soft, thick curls, watching with fascination as he closes his eyes, letting out a puff of warm breath in content, and presses a tickling kiss into her palm.

He steps away and swings into his own saddle, and Merida briefly misses the warmth of him next to her. But the smile he shoots back at her is all love and comforting and just the slightest bit wicked; it’s enough to cause a blush to rise on her cheeks and warm her from within.

“Let’s ride, my queen. We should make it just before nightfall, so you’ll still get yer proper weddin’ night.” He winks at her outrageously and she does laugh at him this time as they take off at a headlong pace.

\-----

They do make it just as the sun is beginning to descend across the sky. Merida finds herself completely tickled by the sight of a small, comfortable looking house set back into the tree line, just on the edge of a hillside smattered with small white flowers.

She lowers herself of Angus, stroking his neck absentmindedly as she takes in the area with wide, wondering eyes. She has absolutely no idea where they are, but she hears the sound of rushing water off in the distance as birds sing in the trees off by the house, and a small smile steadily grows on her face. Mac eases up behind her, wrapping strong arms around her waist.

“What do ye think?” His voice is soft, whispered against the shell of her hair as he presses sweet, lingering kisses to her neck.

“It’s…breathtaking, Mac. Where are we?”

“On the edge of Macintosh lands, this is an old family summer house. I haven’t been here since I was a lad, but I remember it bein’ peaceful. I thought ye might like a bit of peace and quiet for a few days.” 

“Peace and quite would be wonderful.”

He pushes her towards the door with gentle hands, “You head inside, Mer. I’ll get the horses settled.”

Merida walks towards the house with determined feet, pushing open the heavy wood door with both hands. Her hand flies to mouth, covering a gasp, when she walks into the small space. There’s not much to the room – a large, comfortable looking bed one wall, a large hearth on the opposite wall, already crackling with a small fire. There’s a stove just off to the right, an old wooden table to her left. On the far wall there’s a comfortable looking couch next to a large, well stocked bookcase and a clothing closet. The whole space, while not large or grand, is incredibly inviting, but that’s not what gets her.

The entire floor is covered with beautiful, bright red rose petals.

It makes the whole room feel softer, more romantic (and she is, after all, a closet romantic of the biggest kind). The scent of the petals fills the air with a sweet, bright smell that Merida wishes she could bottle up and take home with her.

“Do ye like it?” His voice startles her; she’s so taken aback by the simplicity and beauty of where she is.

“Aye, Mac, it’s gorgeous…” her voice trails off, and he can hear the wonder breathed into every syllable. She walks into the room, utterly entranced by everything, and he shuts the door and follows behind.

Merida walks about the space for a few minutes, silent, taking everything in. Macintosh is sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots, watching his beautiful wife as she circles the room with delicate hesitation, but obvious appreciation coloring her gaze. When she gets to the center of the large space, she spins about once, until she locks onto his eyes. Mac watches as a smile slowly pulls at her the corners of her mouth, and with a sudden laugh, she runs and launches herself onto the bed.

He can’t help but laugh at her; she’s exuberant and breathless and completely, totally happy. She rolls onto her side, head propped up by her arm and stares at him.  
“How did ye do this all Mac? The wedding and this?”

He slides onto the bed and pulls her into his lap, enthralled as he watches her easily, comfortably, curl into his arms. “Yer Ma did most of the wedding planning; she’s a force of nature and when she sets her mind to something, it gets done. Not unlike someone else I know…” He smirks and she half-heartedly takes a swing at his arm, only to wrap herself tighter around him and breathe into the warm expanse of his chest.

“As for this place, I was here all day yesterday with Guff. He helped me get everythin’ in order.”

“Thank you, Mac. For all of this. It’s…more than I ever could’ve hoped for. More than I deserve, by a long shot.” He doesn’t say anything for a long while, and they sit in a warm silence, content to let the moment encompass them completely.

Eventually, Merida feels him start tugging at her hair, and it takes on a breath to realize that he’s gently pulling pins out of her hair. He sets them, along with the crown of flowers, to the side of the bed, one by one, until her curls tumble down her back in a cascade of crimson. Mac flips her onto her back, braces himself as he lays over her, watching with fascination the bright red of her hair laid out on the dark of the sheets. He pushes an errant strand out of her eyes, before leaning down to pull her into a kiss.

It starts slowly, a mere brush of lips against one another, but it grows into something far, far larger. He presses firmer against her mouth, moves to cradle her head in his hand, and suddenly it’s like he’s breathing into her soul, words of love and protection and forever and even the vague hint of happily ever after. She feels his tongue gently parts her lips; something sparks between them and everything turns to fire at once. He pulls her bottom lip into his mouth biting hard and it rocks a whimpered moan from her chest. She cards one hair through his curls as the other lands on his chest, fingers lightly scratching on their downward descent, and she hears him groan, low and harsh.

After that, it’s a whirlwind, hands pulling at clothes, frantic and everywhere at once. Their clothes fall away, one by with, as they both work to take in every inch of available skin the other provides. The only sound in the room is of their matched breathing, labored and wanting, as they work as quickly as possible to get as close as possible.  
They rise, higher and higher to dizzying, magical heights, only to shatter completely, together, wrapped safely in the arms of love.

\-----

It takes them both a while to come down from their passion-fueled high. Mac wraps her in his arms, and she rests securely against him as he pulls his fingers gently through her now disheveled curls.

“Y’know, if ye had told me six months ago that I would find myself married, off in the country side, being thoroughly loved by my husband, I probably would’ve gone mad with laughter.” Her voice is thick, Mac can tell she’s near exhaustion, but the unexpected declaration brings forth a laugh from him.

“Aye? Well I’m certainly glad yer not mad with laughter at the idea now.” She smiles and looks up at him, bright blue meeting fierce, spectacular green.

“No, I’m certainly no’ laughing now. I would’ve never picked this path for my life, but I’m thrilled with where I am – where we are.” He presses a kiss, firm and lingering, on her temple.

“And was this suitable for a first wedding? I tried to give ye what ye wanted, my love. That’s all I’ve ever wanted…”

She melts into his embrace at the sincere, heavy, true, words. “Mac, this has been beyond my wildest dreamings. I could never have imagined a day more perfect. You are perfect for me. I’m so lucky to have you…I love you.”

“I love you, my Queen. Forever.” His voice is heavy, and he can feel tears welling in his eyes. He takes a breath, trying to still the emotions threatening to break out of his chest. “I’m certainly glad to hear it was to yer liking, Mer, though I might disagree with ye on that whole perfect bit. But just think – you’ll get to marry me again in just a few weeks.” 

He laughs heartily at the disgusted groan that comes out of her mouth, and he occupies himself with pressing kisses to every inch of exposed skin that he can get to.  
“Lord Macintosh, I do not want to think about that for at least another three days.”

He lays her back, pressing soft lips to the curve of her neck, farther down, lazily, to the silky skin of her chest, reveling in the shudder that courses through her body.  
“Oh? Well whatever shall we occupy ourselves with then?”

“I could certainly think of a few things…” Merida’s sentence trails off, dissolving into soft gasps as he quietly, thoroughly, loves her with everything he has.

\------

They are completely entranced with one another; and for three long, beautiful days, they revel in love, not a care in the world.

When they return to the castle, there are so many things to deal with – their upcoming (second) wedding, harvest season, the learning of how to rule their home together.

Countless things, but everything, right then, feels unimportant and far away. They’ve got the rest of forever to take care of them.

This moment is theirs.


End file.
